


II

by writeranthea



Series: Behind the Façade [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Friedrich is lowkey (highkey) a softie for Giacomo, From Sex to Love, I would personally fight Friedrich Wilhelm I. if I could, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-16 13:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeranthea/pseuds/writeranthea
Summary: “I execrated my father for years and years on end, and believe me when I say that I am still doing it to this day. For what? To yet end up acting in the exact same way that he did?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These two just wouldn't leave my mind so I decided to extend their encounter into a series. I'm not quite sure where this is going to, but we shall see!
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Promise that you will write,” Giacomo whispered, tilting his head into the gentle palm that was cupping one of his cheeks.

A smile played around Friedrich‘s lips as he used his thumb to gently caress the soft skin. His eyes never broke away from Giacomo‘s, “I promise to do just that, and I do promise with all I possess. No, I shall write a letter for every hour we spend apart so you shall not be without me no matter the time of day.”

The younger tsked and his gaze grew shiny, “Friedrich -” The other‘s lips were on his before he could finish and he gasped and moaned when Friedrich‘s tongue began a gentle battle with his, eager to explore every inch of his mouth. Both men were panting heavily when they parted to lean their foreheads together, keeping their eyes close as if the moment would be over with a blink.

“Mein Liebling,” Friedrich brushed back a stray strand of blond hair, “I shall keep my bed empty and ready while awaiting your return.” Giacomo bit down on the inside of his lip, the sharp pain dull against the hot jolt of jealousy that shot through his veins at the whispered words and the mental image of Friedrich enjoying closeness with another.

He gave a teary chuckle, “I will believe you, of course.”

The sharp knock at the chamber‘s door signaled that the Italian‘s stagecoach was fully loaded and ready to start the travel to Venice.

“Come here,” Friedrich murmured and drew the younger into a bone crushing embrace, cradling the back of his head when Giacomo burried his face in his chest, petting the soft blond hair and pressing a couple of kisses into it, “Be safe and come back to me, Liebling. I need you here with me.”

Another sharp knock disturbed then and Giacomo pulled away, wiping at the wetness on his face.

“I apologize, I must be going -” “Would it change anything if I order you to stay?” “No, Friedrich, it would not. There are matters I have to attend in Venice, orders to give out to arrange a longer absence of mine. It needs to be done before I can return to you.”

Friedrich just pulled him in for another deep kiss.

 

_Three weeks earlier._

 

The stinging pain in a place where he had never experienced it before was the first thing Giacomo Casanova noticed when he stirred awake, and he winced under his breath when he carefully clenched the muscles of his ass together. He only grew aware of the arm that was draped over his body when the person it was attatched to pulled him closer in its sleep, a chin coming to rest on the top of his head. _Friedrich_ , it popped up in Giacomo‘s mind and he blushed when he lifted the blankets to check, only to find himself in his natural state of being. He tried to move as little as possible, not wanting to wake the older man by accident, as he ran the tip of his right index finger up and down the palce lower arm avaiable to him and mused as he took in every vein and crease of the limp hand.

He did not know how long he stayed like this before Friedrich himself stirred, groaned, pulled his arm away and rolled over onto his back. The chasm between them seemed endless for Giacomo, who kept in his position due to his doubtfullness of wether or not he was ready to face the other. Or if Friedrich wanted him to face him, that is. Giacomo was sure that the king must maintain his share of meaningless flings. Why the though of him being just another dash on the list made his chest hurt, he did not know. With his mind wandering off he did not felt the hand coming to rest on his upper arm right way, flinching out of surprise when it started running up and down the lenght of his limb, leaving goodebumps behind.

“Hello.” Giacomo swallowed and closed his eyes for a second before he slowly turned over, mindfull of the pain in his nether regions. For what he had been preparing himself he too did not know, but Friedrich, half his face burried in the pillow and smiling at him with friendly creases around his eyes had not been it. Of that Giacomo was sure. “How are you feeling?” “I am quite sore but I am sure that I will manage,” the Italian whispered back, taking a position that mirrored the king‘s and feeling himself grow hot when Friedrich began stroking his cheek in the same manner he had done a few hours ago, though a bit softer, while his eyes were fixed on nothing but Giacomo.

“It hurts a lot more that ‘quite sore‘, does it not?” Of course he knew, Giacomo thought, cursing himself in his mind and trying hard not to let his embarassment about being caught in a blunt lie show on the outside.“It is nothing for you to worry about, Sire.” The other closed in on him, so close that Giacomo could feel the ghost of Friedrich‘s breath tickle his cheek. “What does it take for you to call me by my name, Giacomo? I do not believe a formal address to be fitting anymore.” “I... apologize.” Friedrich moving closer to him, blanket sliding down just enough to bring a trail of fine black hairs to light, and capturing Giacomo‘s lips seemed to happen in slow motion. The younger was taken by surprise, clearly not having expected to be kissed, thus not retorting the gesture right away and causing Friedrich to abandon his lips. He insted littered Giacomo‘s cheeks, forehead and the tip of his nose with small kisses.

Giacomo was right with his assumption that Friedrich could comprehend his hesitation in the current situation. “Do you want me to take a look?” Oh, he did not need to go into further details for Giacomo to understand what he meant by his offer. He clenched involuntarily. “I have a numbing salve in my nightstand and I merely wish to apply it on you. I do not want you to suffer from something I am responsible of it being a matter in the first place.” “Do not blame yourself Friedrich, it was consensual.” “Then let me do it. Please.” Giacomo could neither believe his ears of his eyes. Friedrich was begging him to let him tend his wound with a sheepish and guilt ridden look on his face while his voice was merely above a whisper.

His diary would hear the best of it, so much was certain. “You may,” he answered and gracelessly flopped over onto his stomach, hiding his face in the depth of the feather pillow in an instant. He was sure that Friedrich was still able to make out the burning tips of his ears, though, and kept still when he felt the mattress dip from Friedrich‘s weight as he got out of bed. Neither did he move a muscle when the protecting blankets were flipped back, baring him in the process. He heard Friedrich take in a sharp breath, “Oh, you are quite red still. I think it will act as an excellent reminder of your misbehaviour for some time.” Friedrich used the thumb and index finger of one hand to spread Giacomo‘s cheeks apart and get a sight of his sore ring of muscles, drawing a whine from the younger which the king tried to appease with gentle words and sound of nonsense as he scooped up some of the salve with his free hand and applied it as fast as he could. He rubbed it into the sore with continuous circles and watched as Giacomo‘s back lost its tention at the numbing effect, using a finger to work some of the salve past the tight muscle.

“Better?” The question was obviously unnecessary but Friedrich still asked, wanting Giacomo to know that he was being cared for, and he smiled to himself when the blond nodded and let out his answer with a sight of relief, “Much better, thank you.” The elder wiped himself clean with the help of a handkerchief before he returned to his side of the bed and layed down once more, now running the fingertips of one hand from the swell of Giacomo‘s ass, over the curve of the small of his back until he reached the soft hairs of his neck before repeating the action. He almost drank in the sight of the beautiful man in his bed slowly but steadily slipping in a state of relaxation.

“What hour is it,” Giacomo slurred, eyes closed and breathing low and even. “Barely past seven.” “Seven?!” Giacomo squeaked and tried to raise himself up only to be pushed back down by the hand on his back. He tried to reason his behaviour, “I am sure that there are meetings or... dinner. What about dinner?” “There is nowhere else I need or want to be now, Giacomo.” Giacomo stilled his antics at Friedrich‘s words, big brown eyes openly staring at the other man over his shoulder. He did not understand what he was getting at. “But this... I am sure it is nothing out of the ordinary for a king - ow!” Friedrich had spanked his mournfully unprotected ass twice, hard, to shut him up. “Are you trying to imply that I am taking every man I cross paths with into my bed?” “Nonono Sire I - ah! - meant nothing the like.” Giacomo snapped his mouth shut, gritting his teeth together as he apprehensively expected further blows. But none came, and Friedrich‘s hand returned to petting him once again, this time on his ass rather than his back.

“I am starting to see that you think too less of yourself, Giacomo. I never planned for this to be a once-and-for-all.” “What,” came a breathed-out reply. “I did indeed. I wish to spend time with you, here at my Sanssouci, as long as you are staying in Prussia.” “But the queen -” “Is not worth any of your concern or time, I did not meet with her for the past three years and another three shall pass until I do so.”

Giacomo‘s heart was in his head, or so it seemed to him, when he processed Friedrich‘s words. Friedrich was proposing a friendship that he wanted to be extended to his chambers. “You... want me? Me, Giacomo Casanova, a mere Italian nobleman?” Friedrich snorted, “You are much more than a mere Italian nobleman, Giacomo. But other that that you got it quite right.” “But, the court... What will they say?” “That too shall be none of your concern. They will not dare to say anything in the open as Sanssouci is my court and they shall not be allowed to extend their stay in my home if they do not show you the due respect.” “I will have to travel back to Venice one more time, I must -”

“It shall be arranged when the time is due, Giacomo, and I would like you to stay here until then. If you wish to stay, that is.” “Friedrich -” “Sh, I know,” Friedrich cut Giacomo off by kissing him softly, “I merely want you to enjoy your time in my country, in my home.” The two moved stages fast, Giacomo knew, but it did not feel pressured or wrong to him and neither did it scare him. Was that how the characters of the many books he had read in his grandfather‘s library felt when their future lover stumbled into their Château in the middle of a storm. Him, Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, known as one of Europe‘s most notorious lover of women, may have developed the tiniest of crush on the king of Prussia. The tiniest. An utterly, utterly tiny one that absolutely did not make him feel like his bones were melting every time Friedrich‘s eyes landed on him, willing to do anything just in oder to please him.

It was a mere case of sudden romantic affection, thank you very much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Giacomo?”

He was floating on a cloud of contentment, brought onto it by the soothing hand running small circles on the naked skin of his back.

“Giacomo?”

The could seemed to disappear with a puff and he whined at the loss, opening one eye to look at Friedrich whose hand had since stilled in its motion. “Hm?” “I apologize but I must leave you, I am needed in an audience,” Friedrich spoke, not removing his hand as he awaited Giacomo‘s reaction. “An audience, of course,” the Italian repeated flatly and rolled over onto his back, rubbing at the creases of his forehead when his face scrunched up from a yawn. Friedrich leaned down to kiss a spot on Giacomo‘s chest, lips lingering before he pulled back, “Once you will meet the minister of finance you will understand why he is most certainly not a candidate for my affection.” The king then sighed and gave himself a mental push off the bed, blindly fixing his hair and straightening his position to fit protocol again.

Giacomo watched him as he did so, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I would much rather have you stay with me,” he sulked - a truly untypical behaviour of his but he did dread to be alone in that enormous bed, which he grew to like in the short time he had spend in it so far. “I do know that,” Friedrich squatted down at Giacomo‘s bedside and brushed a strand of hair back from his face, “but I have no choice, Liebling. It is my duty as the king.” The blond huffed in annoyance and disagreement, earning a chuckle, “Do not tell me you are in need of yet another attitude adjustment already, brat.” Friedrich swatted Giacomo‘s ass, who had since turned onto his side to face him, once, though not very hard. Giacomo did still squeal and blush and used a hand to protect his backside from the other‘s hand, “Ow! What on earth had that been for?”

Friedrich only chuckled again and kissed his cheek, “Be good when I am gone. I shall await your presence in the garden at half past nine, dinner will be served at ten.” A formal court event already? Giacomo‘s face heated up uncomfortably when the state of the suit he had arrived in at the palace crept up back into his mind. “That...would be pleasant but I fear that I will not be able to attend.” “Why would that be?” “My clothes...” Giacomo trailed off, fidgeting with the blanket between his fingers and hoping that Friedrich would get the hint. Friedrich grinned openly, “I may have acted free enough to request your belongings to be brought here.” “You did what,” Giacomo‘s gaze slowly moved over to where Friedrich‘s hand was gesturing at and the older laughed when his mouth fell open.

Indeed, there stood his many suitcases stacked on top of each other with precision. They had even brought the bonquet of flowers he had been gifted with by the hotelier‘s daughter after a rather eventfull evening. “How did you even find out where I was staying?” “Liebling, you should remember that I am the king. I only had to ask.” “Friedrich that - was most absolutely not necessary!” “My bathroom is next door, too, and you shall use it to prepare yourself to your liking.” Friedrich suddenly sounded distant and did not wait for Giacomo to answer before he stood and turned around with a silent sigh to strut towards the door. Giacomo‘s eyes grew wide and he scrambled to wrap the thin sheet around his waist, standing rather haphazardly in the room. “I did not mean to sound ungrateful.”

The men stood a good few meters apart and Giacomo swallowed nervously when Friedrich slowly turned on the heels of his shoes to get a look at him from a distance. “I do know that, Giacomo, and I also know that you may be aware of what is going to a brat that missbehaves. My lap is, much like the edge of my bed, more than able to fit you bend over it.” Giacomo made a sound from the back of his throat and he blushed furiously when Friedrich threw his head back and laughed and grinned at him before slipping out of the door.

Giacomo was sure than he could hear Friedrich‘s laugh ecchoing through to him.

Having hesitated for a few minutes about what he should do next, he then deciding to pick out an outfit for tonight, knowing that there was no way he could have turned down Friedrich‘s inviation even if he wanted to. Being blissfully alone as he was, Giacomo started humming a happy tune as he opened the first of the many cases. He silently thanked himself and whatever higher power had motivated him to pack as many different attires as he had done, allowing him to look his very best for the feast. Giacomo chose a soft raspberry colored pair of britched and blouse that, so he had been told, brought out the brown of his eyes.

Oh and a bath was, in difference to Friedrich‘s efforts, most necessary. The Italian abandoned his cases and walked through the room, still wrapped in the silk sheet, over to the door that stood at the far wall. He waited only for a second before he pushed it open. He gasped at what he saw.The door was indeed leading to a bathroom, a bathroom that was beyond anything Giacomo had ever seen, not even in Schönbrunn palace, or imagined to see.

More than four times bigger than his own bath back in Venice, it was maybe even more richer and ostentatious than the the rest of what he had seen of Sanssouci. Pink marble was tiled on the floor and decorated the walls with corinthian pillars, accentuated with gold that shined brightly in the lights of countless candles. The window on the far wall was build in high enough to allow Giacomo, or anyone, to walk about without being seen from the outside and yet low enough for him to catch sight of the garden that layed beyond. The bathtub, which Giacomo refused to call it, had been let into the floor and was spacious enough ho hold half a dozen of people comfortably and was already filled with water that send out an inviting steam into the air, and Giacomo was sure that some sort of rose bath oil had been added.

He smiled as he let the sheet fall and slowly stepped into the tub, sitting down on one of the carved-in steps low enough for the wate to slosh at his chest. “ _Ah, questa è la vita_ ,” Giacomo sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the rim as he let the warmth pull him into relaxation. He lingered like this for some good minutes before he grabbed a nearby sponge and started cleaning his body with the fraganted soap the bad brought with him from home, thus enjoying at least some of its comforts from a distance. Come time would pass until he would return, Giacomo knew, but it was not as if he was without comfort right here, in the king‘s bathroom and hands and carrying bruises that

He was figuratively in Friedrich‘s hands, not so much literally as of then. Mournfully so. Smiling at his musing, Giacomo found his mind filled with pre-written stories that longues after his diary. He would give into their needs before dinner, he decided, and he whined when the sponge came in touch with the sore in his nethers, finding the soothing effects of the salve to be wearing off. At the thought of why the sore was present Giacomo found his cock stirring.

Oh God, Giacomo blushed and tried to will his erection down with no avail, if the thought alone was enough to trigger this sort of reaction he was sure that he would not last five minutes the next time Friedrich would take him... He practically jumped up and out of the bathtub, violently shaking his head to stop his mind before he would end up relieving himself in the king‘s bath. Instead, he put on a simple robe, brushed his hair and left for the main chamber. Retrieving his notebook, pen and inkpot from his coat that had been discarded onto the floor with the other clothes he had been wearing for the audience, he threw all of them onto the bed and bend down to collect his ruined clothes off the floor to dump them in the basket he had spotted prior - out of eyes out of minds. He would need to concentrate for his writing.

He crawled onto the bed with a sigh and sat down against the headboard, opening the book where he had marked it with a bookmark and slowly but steadily calming the storm that had been raging inside of him since Friedrich‘s thumb had first grazed his lower lip as his pen flew over the pages.

Friedrich was pacing up and down in front of the large window front that would lead him to his gardens. Giacomo was late, and there were few things the king despited as much as unpunctuality. He was clenching and unclenching his fists where he held them behind his back, brows narrowing as he took a look at the clock. 9:39. He did not think twice before he stormed off deteminatedly to his private chambers. The Italian was startled by the sharp knock at the door, which he was unable to answer before the door was practically thrown open and a very furious Friedrich strode into the room. “Why do you wish to embarass me so greatly?” Giacomo‘s eyes grew wide in confusion at Friedrich‘s snarled words. “I have no idea what you are talking about -”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“I said get up, boy,” Friedrich was still snarling and practically pulled Giacomo off the bed by an iron grip on his upper arm, turning him around and pushing him back down after wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him steady pressed against his hip. “Friedrich -” The robe he was wearing was simply flipped up and five hard smacks were applied on the naked skin of his then unprotected backside, making Giacomo cry out as he had not healed from the earlier assault. He braced himself for a bigger wave of pain but instead was released from the hold and flopped face-down onto the bed, panting in disbelieve about what just happened.

Consensual spanking, like they did it earlier, was something Giacomo was not aversed from but he definitely was not up to be hit left and right at random times. He could hear Friedrich panting behind him and he quickly figured that it could not be due to any exertion, and Giacomo lifted himself back onto his feet. Tightening the robe around him, he allowed his eyes to wander to Friedrich‘s face. The single tear making its way down the king‘s face could have easily been missed if it would not have been for the flicker of a cande at just the right time. “Friedrich,” he breathed out and made a step forward into the other man‘s personal space. Friedrich did not react and Giacomo‘s eyes were looking all over him, searching for the reason why.

“I am so sorry.”

Those few words were loaded with such a heavy burden of unknown nature that Giacomo did not think twice before standing on his tip-toes to close his arms around Friedrich‘s neck. The soft sound the elder let out, together with the tremble that Giacomo could feel, made him wonder if Friedrich had even expected him to touch him in this manner. “What is the matter, Friedrich? Talk to me, please.” “I apologize for... hitting you.” “Yes, that was not very kind of you,” Giacomo joked and playfully rubbed at his backside to lighten the mood, but it did just the opposite. Friedrich‘s shoulders slumped and his head tipped down, and the Italian watched in mere confusion when he clenched his fists at his side. “Friedrich...” “I execrated my father for years and years on end, oh and I still do so to this day. Only to end up acting in the exact same way that he did.” Giacomo eagerly searched for eye contact when Friedrich finally looked up an at him, urging him to continue his talk.

“I was waiting for you and I noticed that you were late I... I felt anger, pure anger at your disobeyment that I thought - punishing you was right.” “Oh Lord, I completely lost track of time! I apologize, I was busy writing. I apologize, Friedrich.” “They will not care if we are late, Giacomo. The king cannot be late to his own state dinners.” “But you said -” “You were late at your agreement with me.” “I do not dislike you hitting me _per se_ , it is likeable if it is happening in bed but I shall not accept you doing it as you see fit. I am not an unruly toddler.” “Of course, Giacomo,” Friedrich breathed in deaply and allowed his eyelids to flutter close, “forgive me.” He took Giacomo‘s hands into his, raised them to his lips and kissed each knuckle before lowering , although not letting them go, again. “I shall act different in the future.” “It is but the first day, Friedrich, even if I can not quite believe it, and we need to get to know each other still. I will get dressed and meet you in about fifteen minutes.” Friedrich nodded and hurried to duck out of the room, closing the door behind him quietly.

Giacomo shook his head and blinked a couple of times, putting the events into a far corner of his mind before shredding of the robe and getting into his chosen outfit for the night, the burn in his backside a constant reminder that this was indeed real life and not some feverous dream. Oh, how his life had changed in mere hours. He put his hair into a simply yet elegant ponytail and bound it together with a bow that matched the rest of his clothes, dabbed blush onto his cheeks and just a bit of read onto his lips. Checking himself in the man-sized mirror he smirked when he liked what he found everything to his liking, and faking a pride-filled posture as practise, Giacomo left.

“You look beautiful,” Friedrich greeted him, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.” “That color suits you incredibly well, Giacomo. Shall we go?” Together they walked down a short fly of stairs and to the garden, keeping their bodies at an arm‘s length apart. Both knew that it was way too early to start anything in front of the eyes and ears of the court. “Where am I seated,” Giacomo asked when they reached the tent the banquet table had been set-up under, half a dozen of chair on each side of the elevated chair where the royal couple would most likely be seated on. “Well,” Friedrich smiled, “I ordered them to put a second chair next to mine,” and whispered into Giacomo‘s ear, sending the other into whiplash. “Why would you do that?” The younger did not expect an answer, he also was not granted one, and instead let himself be lead over to his assigned seat by Friedrich‘s hand in the small of his back, a gesture that may not seem intimate to anyone but the two.

Giacomo was glad that he had put on the blush, really glad, as it would do wonders in hiding his nervousness when he sat down next to Friedrich. He tried not to look at the grape of people that had assembled in the garden on the king‘s invitation, just as unable to turn it down like he had been. The king‘s minsters and advisers were in the process of taking their seats besides Friedrich, and Giacomo, too, murmuring to each other with low voices about the obvious and not agreed-on change of court protocol.

The crowd fell silent when Friedrich tapped a small golden spoon against his glass and stood before raising it with one hand, “I am pleased to see that you all so countlessly having accepted my invitation of spending this beautiful summer‘s evening, and night, with me in my Sanssouci. There will be food and wine for everyone, and plays to amuse us.” He raised the glass a bit higher, applause breaking out when he sat back down.

“Oh, there is one more thing that I must mention to clear out any confusion or suspicion,” Friedrich turned his head to face Giacomo, his eyes offering warmth and reassurement, “this is a dear friend of mine, Giacomo Casanova, who just arrived from Venice two days ago. Plenty of “oh”s and “ah”s could be heard - many knew about but few had seen the glory of the Venice - and Friedrich smirked, “I am sure that my fried will not turn down any inquires about his home.” Page boys and men appeared from inside the palace carrying plates stacked up high with different kinds of rich food, Giacomo‘s mood got even better when he spotted an arrange of sea food, and the Italian just then noticed how hungry he had grown to be.

Giacomo put a couple of miniature meat pies and baked scallops onto his plate, very much aware of the many pairs of eyes that were shamelessly watching his every move. “Calm yourself, they will not dare to do a thing,” Friedrich whispered rather into his glass of wine but Giacomo could hear it clearly over the sound of chatting and laugher. The younger‘s anxiety almost immediately vanished when Friedrich‘s left hand came to rest on his thigh, and he suddenly found the fact of him lacking any partner of conversation to be not so bad after all. He had been a victim of court talk and gossip far too many times to be a friend of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but this chapter just didn't want to be written *sigh*.  
> It's mainly filler that will be important in the later events of the storyline.
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

The summer‘s night was warm and light and lit up by the numerous laterns that had been lit. It was a very merry occasion, Giacomo had to admit, the air filled with laughter that was triggered by the acrobats, dwarves and fire-eaters showing off their talents. He had lost track of how many times his glass had been refilled to the rim some time ago, the sweet lightness of the wine‘s alcohol wrapping around his head in just the right way.

Friedrich‘s mouth was suddenly at Giacomo‘s ear, “Is it to your liking, mon ange,” he whispered and gently pulled the younger‘s earlobe between his teeth, nibbling at it once. His hand on Giacomo‘s thigh was still there and Friedrich let it slowly creep up closer towards the other‘s groin, the tip of his little finger brushing against the outline of the younger man‘s cock. Giacomo was sure that his entire face had burned up in a matter of seconds to be just as bright as the lanterns and he choked on a mouthfull of wine, stammering, “O-of course it is, Si - Friedrich, it is most merry.” His voice, unsteady as it had already been, hitched up a few notes when his cock was squeezed to the fabric of his britches.

“I am very glad to hear that.” Oh, Giacomo had definitely underestimated the duration of the royal celebrations at Sanssouci. The last of the sun had long disappeared and it was soon after that their plates were carried away, a signal for those who were seated at the table to abandon their chairs and mix themselves under the courtiers and other guests. As he did as the protocol expected it from him, he noticed that most of them were men. Noble men, they all were, who Giacomo would expect to be married, but they must have come without their wifes. He could have smacked himself against the side of his head - of course they were all men, if Friedrich could not stand to have his own wife around him, why would be bother with the wives of others? And so Giacomo tried to move through the chatting groups as inconspiciously as he could with hope of maybe not being spoken to, but it was to no avail.

“ _Bonsoir_ , Monsieur.” Friedrich tried to stay as close as possible to Giacomo at all times without it being too noticable, keeping the Italian in the corner of his field of vision when he got trapped in a dull and meaningless conversation with the second minister of finance while Giacomo was laughing and talking away with a man Friedrich recognized in an instant. Philippe de Lorraine, the notorious younger brother of the duc de Lorraine and ambassador at Sanssouci.

“I must say Monsieur, you are one of the most beautiful Italian men I have ever met. And I spend a whole year in Italy,” de Lorraine spoke with a silky voice, his eyes practically burning into Giacomo‘s skin who was watching a spot next to the frenchman‘s head. What in the good lord‘s name was going on, since when had he become the object of affection to men? And when did he started to like being on the receiving end of shameless flirtations? Maybe it was the alcohol or the simply thrill of it, Giacomo did not know which one, but he decided to play along. Really, what could it hurt to enjoy himself?

“Thank you, you are most kind,” Giacomo muttered into his glass of champagne. “Do not thank me for merely speaking the truth.” The man smiled at him and the Italian could not deny that he was beautiful - honey-colored curles framed a pale face with blue eyes that were only slightly hazed from intoxication. Friedrich‘s jaw clenched when he saw Philippe leaning forward to whisper something into Giacomo‘s ear that had the latter blushing and biting the inside of his cheek, making the frenchman smirk with satisfaction. “If you would excuse me,” he brought out between his teeth and abandoned the minister for Giacomo, feeling the sudden urge to kiss him right there in front of de Lorraine‘s stupid head of ridiculous curls.

“Good evening, Monsieur.” Friedrich had to give it his all to not snarl the greeting; it was his duty as a king to be unaffected by any personal aversions. “Your Majesty,” the French chirped and bowed down, overdoing the gesture with the intend to provocate. Being send to Prussia under the king of France‘s personally insured protection, Philippe de Lorraine knew that he had nothing to fear. “It is a charming evening, is it not?” Friedrich asked, not paying the ambassador another second of his attention, when he turned to look at Giacomo. “Oh it is indeed, your majesty,” the younger answered and smiled, a smile that Friedrich returned for a split second.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, charming is an understatement if I ever heard one. It has gotten so much better since you decided to introduce us to your friend, I was in dire need of such a pleasant partner of conversation.” “Is that so,” Friedrich asked through closed teeth and de Lorraine was smiling at him, Giacomo could see that it was far from a warm smile. “Indeed, Monsieur Casanova and I were just talking about the differences between Italian and Prussian bedding - but it seems that he has no opinion about it.” Friedrich was seeing red, his fist longing to connect with the French‘s face. He knew that the other was showing obvious interest in any men that he would exchange more than two words with, it was what de Lorraine was infamous for after all, and some rumored that there were at least a dozen men at every european court that the French had played between the sheets with.

He shuddered at the thought of those hands touching what he wanted to become _his_. “Monsieur, would you be aversed to taking a stroll with me,” de Lorraine spoke to Giacomo in a silky voice once again, simply overgoing the king. “I do not see why I should be,” the Italian answered slowly, not missing how Friedrich was downright staring at him, “shall we meet at the temple? I will be there in a few minutes.” “I shall await your presence, mon cher,” Philippe kissed Giacomo‘s hand and staggered off to their arranged meeting point.

Giacomo let out a shaky breath once the frenchman was out of earshot and Friedrich noticed that he was trembling, clenching the glass in his hand hard enough that the king feared for it to break and he quickly pulled the Italian behind a tall hedgerow and at least somewhat away from the public eye. He closed his arms around the shaking man, not caring as the crystal glass shattered against the shingle.

“Stay away from that man, do you understand,” he spoke into the hair his face was hid in and he could feel Giacomo nod against his chest, a signal for him to release the younger. “It was fun at first but then he got... intrusive and I did not know how to tell him no,” Giacomo whispered, wanting to kick himself for being so stupid. “Even if you would have told him no, he probably would not take it as an answer.” “How so?” “Powders, notorious at Versailles. Just put a pinch or two into a man‘s glass and he will not remember a thing in the morning.” “Oh Friedrich,” Giacomo threw himself around the king‘s neck, “is it not possible for us to leave and go somewhere more secluded?” Friedrich‘s heart jumped, he could now fathom how the two of them had grown so close in a mere single but eventful day. He had done so with only one person, a person that was unjust and violently tore from his life, and he would make sure that it would not happen a second time. “You are right, mon ange. We should leave. I am no longer in the mood for festivities regardless.”

They locked hands and Giacomo felt a wave of relief washing over him when Friedrich looked around once before taking off into the night, the Italian on his heels and both giggling like boys comitting an act of naughtiness. Which it was, in a way. “Where are we going,” Giacomo breathed, the exertion slowly creeping up on him. They must have been running for a good handful of minutes and he was not utterly sober, after all. “We are almost there, Liebling."

Friedrich had spoken the truth, they came to a halt after another minute or so of running. Giacomo put his hands into his sides to catch his breath when he noticed that they were standing on top of a small hill that offered him an incredible look at the stars in the clear summer‘s night sky. Friedrich moved behind Giacomo and put both arms around his chest, leaning his cheek against the blond‘s head and closing his eyes. “It is my favorite place on the grounds of my Sanssouci.” “I can see why,” Giacomo whispered back and leaned back against Friedrich, drinking in the sight with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Friedrich?” “Yes?” Giacomo turned around to face Friedrich, their eyes locked as they just looked at each other. “Would it be alright for me to kiss you?” “Of course, yes.” He raised onto his tiptoes and put his lips onto Friedrich‘s, cupping his face to pull him closer, allowing the king‘s tongue to enter his mouth after a gently probe at his lips. It did not take long for him to feel Friedrich‘s cock press against his stomach. “Wait,” the elder breathed and parted from Giacomo despite every cell of his body longing to touch long enough to sit down into the grass. He offered a hand and the Italian smiled when he accepted it and lowered himself onto Friedrich‘s lap, both men panting when their tongues continued their play and Friedrich‘s hand moved to form a cupping seat under Giacomo‘s ass. Friedrich shamelessly squeezed those taunt globes, enjoying the way the younger man whined and bucked at his touch.

“Who ist your favorite artist,” Friedrich whispered against Giacomo‘s throat, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. The younger made an incomprehensible noise that he understood to be a question and the king chuckled as he let his nose brush against his jawline, “Your most liked artist, tell me who it is. I want to get to know you.” Giacomo threw his head back and laughed a laugh that turned into a moan when Friedrich sucked on a spot close to his jaw, not having expected such question. His cock stirred against the restrain of his breeches, “Sandro Botticelli, he is -” Giacomo drew in a shuddered breath, “my favorite.”

“A wise choice,” Friedrich praised, “do you happen to have a favorite piece of art?” “Nascita di Venere.” Friedrich abandoned Giacomo‘s throat to look at him, “So Venus it is. You know, now that I think of it she may just be the one you got your gorgeous looks from.” Giacomo rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh, “How much longer to you want to continue your interrogatio -” He was flipped onto his back in a second with Friedrich‘s face hovering about him and his wrists being held high above his head. How did he managed to do that? He was so turned on by the king that he would have done just about everything to get Friedrich to touch him again, and so he whined and arched his back to urge him on, and to maybe get some friction against the strain in his britches. “Mind your manners, Giacomo, or I might not fuck you after all.” “Just kiss me, please, just kiss me Friedrich.” “Since you are asking so nicely,” Friedrich purred and slowly bend down to catch Giacomo‘s lips again, grinning when the Italian tugged at the fabric of his blouse.

“Take it off,” he spoke low into the kiss causing Friedrich to growl but obey, taking it off before helping Giacomo out of his own blouse. Giacomo‘s eyes were plastered onto Friedrich‘s chest - it was as muscular as he had expected it to be, but it were the many scars that littered the pale skin with silver that caught his entire attention. He feared that he knew exactly where they were from. “Who did that to you,” he whispered and ran his fingertips gently over the ones that stood out the most, earning a shudder from Friedrich.

“My father walked in on me taking a flute lesson and he was ... not pleased to see his heir to the throne waste precious hours of the day on, in his eyes, useless tasks that were to no avail on the battlefield.” Giacomo gasped. “I am sorry.” “Do not be, it is long passed history.” While he did not believe Friedrich‘s words, he decided to let the topic go.

“If you do not want to continue...” “Not in your wildest dreams,” Ferdinand growled, groped him through his britches while he sucked another bruise onto Giacomo‘s throat and the the blond lifted his hips in oder to comply when his britches were tugged down. His own hands were busy working on the fly of the king‘s trousers. Once out of their clothes, both men haltered to admire the other. “You are so, so beautiful,” Friedrich whispered and loosened the bow that held Giacomo‘s hair together, freeing it to run his fingers through the strands. “It has been so long since I shared this with someone so precious, but I shall tell you about it another time.” He fished a viall from his discarded trousers and held it up, almost like one would show off a trophy, for Giacomo to see.

“Are you always carrying this around with you?” Giacomo‘s eyes were full of mischief and he raised an eyebrow in a playfully judgemental way. “I had hoped for a second chance of getting with you tonight and thus wanted to be prepared, just in case.” His index finger had already been lubed up by the time he had finished talking and he ran it teasingly over the rim of Giacomo‘s puckered hole.

“My, you truly are a clever man,” the younger whispered, breathing heavily when the first finger entered him. “Oh yes, I am a very clever man. Could you not have guessed so?” Friedrich spoke low into his ear and probed at the entrace with a second, equally lubed-up finger. But it was pain instead of pleasure that shot through Giacomo‘s body when it entered, and he could not surpress the cry when he was scissored open. Friedrich pulled his fingers out as fast as he had inserted them and used his clean hand to stroke Giacomo‘s cheek, “I apologize, I forgot that you must be sore still -” “You can still fuck me...” “No, I shall not do such thing,” Friedrich cut him off with a snap, “you are in obvious pain.”

Giacomo huffed but did not argue, he had gone almost flacid anyway, and smiled when Friedrich plopped down onto the grass next to him and pulled him close. The younger rested his head on the scarred chest and continued stroking it. “This is nice, too,” he whispered, something inside him moving as his eyes were fixed on the stars and the bright crescent moon. Friedrich hummed in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this chapter may not be too thrilling to some I really enjoyed writing the small details of their lifes at court - plus it thickens the plot, so it's a win-win :-) 
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> (The length of this got slightly out of hand but I'm not even sorry.)

The sunlight hit the mirror that had been positioned so that it reflected the beams onto the sleeping man‘s face, the warmth of the light tickled his nose and caused him to slowly but steadily be pulled out of his sleep. He made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat as he stretched and yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

It took Giacomo a few moments to realize that he was alone, the side Friedrich had been sleeping on abandoned and cold which meant that he left some time ago. The fact that he was alone did dampen his mood somewhat, eager as he had been for them to continue getting to know each other, but Friedrich had his duties as the king of Prussia that urged him to attend more urgend matters. He sighed and flipped the blanket back to swing his legs off the side of the bed, running both hands over his face and brushing strands of unkempt hair behind his ears.

A bath was what he needed the most. While stargazing with Friedrich next to him and holding his hand had been wonderful, the feeling of grass on his bare skin not so much so he trudged into the adjoined bathroom to turn on the tab for the tub to fill. He added a few drops of the scented oil he had found standing on the nightstand and it was only when he screwed the vial shut again that he noticed the piece of paper attached to it. _Giacomo, it is but a simple gift from me to you. I hope that it will make your morning less tedious since I am unable to be there with you. For I cannot wait to see you at dinner tonight._

He smiled and ran a fingers over the inked words, making a mental note to thank Friedrich formally. Still he sighed again as he squatted down to check the water‘s temperature, staring at a spot without really looking at it. His mind was heavy. While he found it incredibly sweet of Friedrich to think of him enough for a present, he found himself to be much less sure about their... situation than he had been yesterday. While he could not deny that he was attracted to Friedrich and neither could he possibly be oblivious to Friedrich‘s affection towards him. But staying - he had almost never stayed with a women for more than a handful of days, maybe a week at top, and staying at Sanssouci would eventually lead to Friedrich wanting something stable. Giacomo had not seen the concept of a relationship fitting for him.

Until yesterday, probably, since he did decide to stay. Oh, he knew that they were moving at an incredible fast speed, Lord, around this time the prior day he did not even know he liked to have another man fuck him and neither had he expected to maybe, just maybe, be already falling for Friedrich. Someone knocked at the chamber‘s door thrice in quick succession and Giacomo rolled his eyes and tightened the robe around him as he walked towards it, opening it zestfully and snapping a “Yes?” rather sharply.

The servant‘s face turned red, his eyebrows pulled up high enough to almost reach his hairline, “I - apologize, Sire, I had not expected to find anyone in the king‘s chamber around this time of day.” _Damn_. Giacomo blinked hard and fast and cleared his throat trying to find the right words, hoping to somewhat safe the situation, “The king personally invited me to take a bath, I just arrived.” He did not know if the other man believed him but there was nothing more he could try. He cleared his throat again, “What is it that you want.” The manservant quickly bowed down as he answered, “I came to replace His Majesty‘s fruits and refreshments, but I shall return later if you wish to.” “That would be appropriate as I am about to bathe.” “Of course, Sire. I apologize for the disturbance. Do enjoy your bath.”

Giacomo may have closed the door a bit too fast and he looked at it without blinking before catching himself again. His heart was in his throat. Great, just great. He would eat a hat if it would not make it to the court rumors and sighed again, something he feared he would do a lot today. “Giacomo, Giacomo,” he said mumbled himself as he shook his head and discarded to robe to get into the inviting bath as fast as he could. Since had awoken late that day it was almost midday when he got out of the tub, having spend almost an hours dozing with his eyes closed and mind running. He would have stayed in for longer if the water had not gotten cold. Humming an uplifting tone, he dried himself off and dressed into a simple but appropriate-for-court attire.

He sat down onto the food of the bed, realizing that he had absolutely nothing to do. Zero dates or formal events to attend. Giacomo propped his elbows up on his thighs and put his face in his hands, huffing. The perfunctory though of leaving Sanssouci for Berlin passed his mind, but he knew it would look like an escape attend from Friedrich and he was not eager to break to barely-there bond they shared. On the other hand - how could he decide if he really wanted to stay in Potsdam with Friedrich if he stayed in this damn room all by himself and not talking to Friedrich, getting to know him. They barely knew a thing about each other, and Giacomo longed to change that. He longed for more of Friedrich.

Giacomo also knew that Friedrich could not possibly skip his duties so the Italian decided to at least go out and enjoy himself somewhat, maybe even have a pleasant conversation or two. He slipped out of Friedrich‘s chambers after making sure twice that the corridor was unoccupied on both sides and slendered through the palace, taking his sweet time admiring the many paintings and drawing sketches into his notebook of the ones that bound him. He was sketching the intriguing face of a man whose portrait lacked an artist‘s signature, only marked with HHvK at the bottom, and Giacomo wrote it down, too, planning to look into it later, when a silky voice whispered, “I did not think you would disappoint me so soon, Giacomo,” into the air right next to his ear and caused the blond to whirl around. He just barely held back a yelp.

“Philippe,” he breathed out with a shaky voice, holding the notebook to his chest like a lifeline and feeling himself blush like as if he had just been caught breaking a rule. Philippe de Lorraine was dressed in impeccable french court attire and slightly swinged with his gilded cane as he smiled and took a couple of legere steps backward to offer the other more space. “I was planning to apologize to you, Monsieur. The king required me for an important matter last night.”

“An important matter of you being bend over his worktable with his royal cock in your ass?” Giacomo‘s whole face burned up and the frenchman threw his head back to laugh, his curls bouncing, “I was merely allowing myself to make a joke, _mignonette_.” “I shall not accept myself being accused of doing... such things with His Majesty,” Giacomo snarled, clearly not as amused as the frenchman was, and hoping that his words sounded convincingly enough.

De Lorraine quitened down when he realized that his humor did not affect the other in a positive way, “ Of course, Monsieur, I offer my sincere apology. I did not mean to offend you.” Friedrich‘s warning from last night popped back into Giacomo‘s head - _stay away from that man_ \- but come on, he felt strange having no one to talk to and Philippe did not seem too dangerous, and there was no wine near by either so he should be just fine conversing with him. “I accept your apology.” Philippe de Lorraine smiled all teeth, and Giacomo did not know why he was reminded of a beast closing in on its chosen prey. “Well, I assume that you are free at this moment and I would be very pleased it we could go on our walk now.” The Italian hesitated before he nodded, accepting the offer, and he put his notebook and pen back into the pocket of his overcoat. Philippe still had not lost his smile as he lead the way.

In the meanwhile Friedrich, who sojourned in his study, was begging to feel the harbingers of a headache. “If you decide to act according to the plan you set up, Your Majesty, the takes need to be increased by three precent.” “They shall be greatful that it is not five,” he said, rubbing at his temple before he stood from his desk where had spend the most of the last five hours at, listening to his ministers of justice, war and finance successively.

“Indeed, Your Majesty, they shall be very greatful,” the minister of finance, a short and plump elderly man quickly replied as Friedrich moved to stand in front of the windows that overlooked a part of the gardens. “Is there anything else you require from me?” “Yes, Your Majesty, a request from Königsberg arrived just this morning..." Friedrich could not hear anything except the blood rushing in his head, especially not the unpleasant voice of the minister, when his eyes caught side of Giacomo‘s blond hair glittering in the sun as he talked and threw back his head to laugh. He was standing amongst a small group of courtiers - and Philippe de Lorraine, that smug bastard, was right next to him, and Friedrich grit his teeth together when he thought of any possible way to get rid of that french - “Sire?”

The minister stopped the train of the king‘s thoughts, “Yes.” “Shall we send out a letter of acceptance?” “To whom?” “The major of Königsberg,” the minister stated, brows pulling together. “Ah yes, of course. Send out the letter. Would that be all?”

He allowed himself to let out a groan of annoyance when he was finally left alone. His duties today were none out of the ordinary and yet they were tiring him to an unusal extend, having him rubbing his temples in a hopeless attempt to get rid of the pain beneath them. When he turned back to face the window and found both Giacomo and de Lorraine no longer in sight a bitter snarl formed on his face.

Friedrich could not understand why Giacomo was deliberately acting against his words by associating himself with the frenchman, but on the other hand he could not blame him if he was honest to himself - it must be lonely for the Italian, who never had been to his court before and thus had no social connections he could just reconnect with. And even if he wished, he doubted that de Lorraine was stupid enough to risk the delicate peace between France and Prussia by causing disturbance at Friedrich‘s court in the name of Louis _le Bien-Aimé_.

To his own surprise Giacomo found himself eagerly listening to Philippe‘s vivid narration of his travels to oversea that did almost cost him his life on more than once occasion. “And your brother allowed you to carelessly risk your life? He is duc and you would be his heir, or am I wrong?” Philippe laughed and tried to walk closer to Giacomo without the latter noticing right away, “Well,” he chuckled, “I did not exactly ask for his permission in the first place.” Giacomo openly stared at him, “What? I shall believe that your brother was not too amused.” “No, he was not amused in the slightest.” “Giacomo.” The blond stopped to see that Philippe had stopped walking some moments ago and thus was standing a few meters away from him. “Yes?” “I do not mean to be importunate but... are you interested in men or women? Or both?”

Huh. Giacomo‘s mind went blank at the question as he had never thought about that prior. “I believe that you are already aware of the women.” “Indeed I am. I heard that you broke poor Madame du Barry‘s stupid and impertinent heart. Your taste could be described as... questionable.” He shuddered at the memory, “Are you always this intrusive?” “Once I know what I desire, yes.” “Philippe I...” Giacomo tried to come up with a white lie as fast as he could, “I have a lover awaiting my return to Venice.” Giacomo did feel bad when the smile disappeared from the French‘s face in an instant. “Ah yes. Loyalty, a man‘s most honored virtue,” Philippe mumbled and tried to avoid Giacomo‘s eyes, suddenly not as proud in statue as hitherto. They continued their walk in silence after that, but Giacomo knew he could not let it stand in the air between them.

“Thank you, Philippe, I enjoyed our shared time a lot,” he spoke as they reached their starting point, the side entrance of Sanssouci‘s main wing. “Did you really?” Philippe looked at him with bright eyes and an utterly honest smile, making Giacomo wonder if his prior behaviour had been but a put-on mask of a sort. “I do not lie to a friend of mine.” Both men smiled at each other before they shook hands and parted ways.

Taking two steps at a time Giacomo hasted up the grande escalier to find refuge in Friedrich‘s chambers, tired from socializing as he was, but was stopped by the same manservant that had disturbed him earlier. “A message from His Majesty, Sire,” he dutifully said and passed a sealed letter to Giacomo who tore it open, the inked words having been written with obvious hurry. “Where can I find him?” “His Majesty‘s study is on the far right of the second floor. He will be awaiting your presence.” “Thank you.” The servant bowed and Giacomo continued to make his way. He had no trouble finding the right door, and he frowned when he noticed that it was unguarded. Philippe may have mentioned that there merely six guards were covering the palace, gardens and park but Giacomo took it as an underestimation. It that was no demonstration of power he did not know what else could be. Knocking twice, he awaited for permission to enter before he pushed the gilded double-winged door open.

Friedrich was standing with his backside leaned against the wooden desk and his arms crossed over his chest as Giacomo entered. “What _urgent matter_ that you wish to discuss with me it so urgent that I was not even allowed to refresh myse - hmpf!” Friedrich had strud over to him, cupped his face and pressed his lips onto Giacomo‘s, cutting the sarcastic remark to an end. “Well, that is a greeting I could get used to,” the younger whispered and smiled up at Friedrich when he folded his hands against the small of his back. “Did de Lorraine bother you? I saw you and him from my window.” Friedrich‘s voice was sharp when speaking out the frenchman‘s name and Giacomo put his palm onto his chest, knowing what the gesture meant to the king. “No, he did not. I went on a mere walk through your park with him.” Friedrich huffed, but while he did not like what he heard he did not blame Giacomo.

“And he was most understanding when I told him that I am not interested in him.” The elder raised an eyebrow, “What did you tell him?” “What does it matter what I told him, Friedrich. What matters is that he is going to stand down.” Giacomo laughed into the next kiss, wrapping his arms about Friedrich‘s neck. In that moment, Giacomo Casanova realized just how fast one could fall in love. Both men were breathing heavily when they parted and while Giacomo‘s hand did not go south, he was sure that he would find exactly what he thought to be there.

Friedrich reluctantly removed his arms from around the younger and slowly walked back to sit behind his desk, feeling something tug at his heart when Giacomo shuffled his feet feeling rather foolish standing in the middle of the room with a hard-on he unsuccessfully tried to hide behind a hand. “I apologize, Liebling, but I do not have the time for further conversion.” “Oh,” Giacomo was just as unsuccessful at keeping the disappointment out of his voice, “I guess that I better be going, then.” Friedrich could not do but to jump up from the chair and close the distance between them with four long strodes. He kissed Giacomo again, hard, as if to prove a point, drinking in Giacomo‘s lusted whine. “I will see you tonight, mein Liebling.”

The dinner Friedrich had promised to Giacomo was, much to the latter‘s relief, a private affair, the king having cleared an hour off his schedule to arrange the small engagement before the court dinner would follow at ten. A manservant had notified, and disturbed Giacomo in his readings, at quarter to eight that His Majesty was requesting his presence in the royal dining room. Giacomo had thanked him and changed into yet another different attire, binding his hair into a ponytail before checking himself one last time in the venetian glass. He liked what he saw, oh he looked _good_ in all-white. It brought out his tan and the dark of his eyes, so he had been told.

While he did not want to break court etiquette by dashing through the palace Giacomo also did not want for Friedrich to wait much longer, thus walking at a rather fast pace. It did not take him too long to find the right room, be was prevented from entering it by a guard that stood broad-shouldered in front of the door. “His Majesty is awaiting my presence.” Giacomo was eyed for a moment before he was granted access.

Friedrich was already sitting at the head of the lavishly set-up dining table, leaned back into his chair, drinking from his glass and smiling at Giacomo as the Italian hurried to close the door behind him. Giacomo was surprised to see that his seat was not, as usual, opposite of Friedrich‘s at the other end of the table but to the king‘s left. He stepped further into the room. “Come, Liebling, you shall sit with me,” Friedrich seemed to notice his hesitation and beckoned him closer, offering a reassuring smile. Giacomo obeyed and seated himself at the king‘s side, an honor which he knew was reserved for few.

“Thank you for the invitation, Friedrich.” “You are most welcome, mein Liebling, “ Friedrich answered, still smiling, as he reached for the decanter to pour Giacomo a glass of sparkling white wine. His free hand came to rest on the blond‘s thigh as if on its assigned seat and the gesture was familiar enough for Giacomo by then to not have him blush like a maid. Oh, but he did blush when Friedrich‘s thumb began to run a small pattern of circles on his leg. “Eat, I am sure that you are quite hungry.” Giacomo filled his plate with dried fruits - figs, pears and oranges - all which reminded him of home. They even tasted the same. He grinned at Friedrich who looked like he had been waiting for just this reaction. “I sadly did not see how the cooks reacted as they got my request,” he chuckled and plopped a raspberry into his mouth.

“This is wonderful, Friedrich. I am truly, utterly thankful.” Friedrich tsked and squeezed Giacomo‘s thigh once, “Do not be ridiculous, it is the bare minimum I would to for a guest of mine. And you, Liebling, shall deserve much more than that if my time allows it.” The blond took his glass and drank from it, eyes wrinkling as he smiled at the king over its rim. While Friedrich tried to hide his struggle when he attempted to open a clam with only one hand, he partout did not want to remove his other from Giacomo‘s thigh. And Giacomo was alright with that, too. They ate with a comfortable and light silence between them, simply enjoying the closeness and presence of the other. Friedrich found himself wondering about when he last felt this comfortable and secure. But if he would have been honest with himself, he would not have needed to wonder - he knew exactly how long it had been.

One thousend seven hundred sixty-eight weeks, or twelve thousand two hundred ninety-one days. That was how much time had passed, he had never lost count since Küstrin. “...rich.” “Yes, Liebling,” Friedrich cleared his throat and pushed those thoughts far back into his head where they belonged. “Is everything alright,” Giacomo sounded worried and if Friedrich‘s heart was not ready to burst at the realization. He sighed, “I apologize, I lost myself in my thoughts. I am just fine.” Giacomo made a sound that Friedrich could not deduce, and he squeezed his thigh again. “Trust me, I am delighted to have you here.”

Giacomo sat down his cutlery to clean his mouth with the napkin, “And I am gratefull that you allowed me to stay.” He licked his lips and averted his eyes to a spot over the king‘s right shoulder, fearing his heart would jump out of his chest if Friedrich looked at him with those eyes. His breath hitched when the elder leaned over in slow motion, lips brushing against his cheek before they crashed against his own in a starved kiss. “I do not know what it is,” Friedrich rasped out between two kisses, “or what you are doing, but I simply cannot resist you. I cannot stay away from you, Giacomo.”

The king‘s voice was rough and low, sending shots of pleasure through the Italian who whimpered when he was kissed again. “And I know that you are eager to show your gratitude, are you not? I might know just what you could do.” Giacomo had already pushed his chair back, so violently it almost creeked and toppled over, and his knees were on the wooden floor before Friedrich had even stopped talking. He could hear Friedrich curse under his breath when he crawled under the table to position himself between the king‘s spreaded legs.

Having been on the receiving end of under-the-table attention before, Giacomo decided that he found being the one providing it much more thrilling. The blond rubbed the side of his face against the inside of a broad thigh, edging closer until his nose brushed against the already-there tent of the king‘s britches. Friedrich‘s hand was already in his hair, too, messing up its do and doing nothing to cease Giacomo‘s own erection. He never, not in his wildest fever dream, would have ever imagined that a simple strong hand on the back of his head could provide such pleasure for him.

Friedrich‘s free hand had since began working on the fly of his own trousers, and Giacomo wet his lips when the cock sprang free, bouncing. He surged forward and lick at its underneath with the tip of his tongue, pressing a kiss against the head before he repeated the action once, twice, fondling the ballsack with the hand he was not using to hold himself balanced. “You are - _oh_ \- you are - _Liebling_ -” Giacomo‘s head was buzzing at the praise and he closed his lips around the head of Friedrich‘s cock for the first time as a ‘thank you‘ of sorts, bobbing his head to get used to the girth. Even when coming to think of it later, Giacomo had no idea how he managed to get the job done so well. Giacomo gagged as Friedrich‘s hips bucked at the first contect of his cock against the back of the blond‘s throat, and he pulled off to catch his breath before trying to go further.

“Wait, Liebling, wait.” Friedrich could have sobbed as he pulled out to push his chair further away from the table. Giacomo was confused but continued to kneel on the floor wide-eyed with slick lips and tainted cheeks, looking at the other. “Come here, Liebling, come here. I just want to see you,” the elder whispered and squeezed at the base of his cock to prevent himself from climaxing at the sole sight of the blond crawling towards him on all fours. He threw his head back and stiffled a moan with his fist pressed against his lips when Giacomo swallowed him again, this time holding the blonde in place with his other hand to thrust into the inviting heat. Friedrich knew he was getting close, mournfully quick so, and he eased his hold on the blonde‘s hair to allow him to back off if he wanted to. “I am close, Li-iebling,” he warned, having no intention of pressuring the other in the same way he feared he had done in the park. “Pull off, Giacomo, I -”

Giacomo, instead of pulling away, _hummed_ and looked Friedrich straight in the eyes as the king‘s legs started to shake, Friedrich bucking two more times before he released himself down Giacomo‘s throat. He breathed heavily and watched in disbelieve when the Italian kept sucking and swallowing until he finished, only then letting the softening cock slip from his mouth, threads of cum and saliva forming a connection between them. Friedrich pulled Giacomo onto his feet and helped him to straddle his lap, dipping his hand into the younger man‘s trousers as he kissed him. He could taste himself in Giacomo‘s mouth, a fact that was driving him crazy, and spoke sweet nonsense as he finished him off with quick tugs. The younger was repearing his name over and over again when he breathed his relief into Friedrich‘s mouth and spilled it over his fist. It took them both a while to collect themselves enough to form a coherent sentence, and Friedrich spoke four mere words into Giacomo‘s ear.

“You are my Sanssouci.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat* Ladies and Gentlemen, I absolutely did not spend the whole weekend writing this while an important deadline is creeping closer by the hour.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

As if Giacomo had to pay the price for those two very eventful days, the rest of his first week at Sanssouci seemed to pass by with an incredible slow pace. Friedrich was busy, even more so than ususal, leaving even before Giacomo would awake and returning long after the sun would set again. The Treaty of Hubertusburg had been signed over a year ago but it still requested a lot of his attention when it came to dealing with austrian and saxon representatives. While the king tried to at least invite the Italian for a stroll or a glass of wine between two audiences, Giacomo spend most of his time alone in the king‘s chambers.

He wrote countless letters to his friends and family, assuring that he was alright, enjoying his time in Prussia and had not been forced to acknowledge his paternity yet. But after a couple of days in solitude, Giacomo started to grow restless and he knew that he needed to get out and do something else than reading or writing for hours on end. He had found the unfinished sketch of the unknown man‘s portrait while flipping through his diary and since he had nothing else to do, he decided to pay it a visit once more. Giacomo gave a porfunctory greeting those he passed by and was equally dutifully greeted back, some stopping to watch him as he went.

Now that he was looking at the painting and it set-up again, Giacomo noticed that it looked remarkably like a subtle shrine of some sort as it hung in a niche and illuminated by a single red candle. The bouquet of roses was still fresh, presumedly having been put there earlier that day. Oh, Giacomo was fascinated by the man. He must have been one of military service, given by the badges and medals he was showing on the shiny black breastplate he wore over a luxurious golden robe. His face was a tad bit rounded, but he overall seemed loveable and so very young. Looking around, the blond found two chairs standing at the wall opposite of the niche and he sat down on one of them, his eyes not leaving the painting as he searched his pockets for a pen.

He allowed himself to be lost in the task, trying to capture the soft roundness of the man‘s face in just the right way. The courtiers that passed him raised eyebrows and talked behind opened fans about the strangeness of the Italian and how he dared to act the way he did. “Long time no see,” where the words that pulled Giacomo back into here-and-then. Philippe de Lorraine had seated himself in the free chair and was smiling as widely as he always appeared to do. “Well,” Giacomo laughed sheepishly and put his notebook down to brush a few strands of his unbound hair off his face. He was already regretting not having put it up as usual as it was getting bothersome the more it grew. “I had important matters to attend.”

He feared that his words were not taken as the truth, but the frenchman did not question them. “My, you sure are a busy man,” Philippe chuckled. “I feared that, maybe, you had already departed.” “I would not do so without paying a proper goodbye to a friend,” Giacomo smiled back, hoping that his sheer eagerness for a conversation was not showing off to obviously.

“I shall hope so,” Philippe spoke with a playfully scolding tone at which they both had to laugh again. “What are you drawing?” “Oh it is nothing I just,” Giacomo gestured with his pen towards the painting, “like this one,” he tried to justify as he lifted his hand to let the other see the pages he had been drawing on. “Did you show this to the king, you two being good friends,” the frenchman had sobered up and spoke rather low, causing Giacomo to grow confused. “No, why?” “Good. You would be wise not to do so.” “Why would that be,” he snapped, getting rather impatient. Philippe cleared his throat and turned his face away to look at the niche instead, “Even if I wanted to, it is not my story to tell.” Giacomo continued to stare at him with an incomprehensible look on his face and an eyebrow raised, shaking his head as he closed the book.

He was even more eager, wanting to find out who that man, HHvK, was and why on earth he was advised to not mention him to Friedrich. A passed-on brother? Uncle? As far as he could tell it definitely could not be Friedrich Wilhelm I. “I was about to visit the salon for a game of cards - would you like to accompany me?” Giacomo nodded, deciding that some socializing could do no harm but to wipe out rumor about him having departed and, maybe, clear his head somewhat. They walked side by side with no hurry, chatting happily as they walked through the palace. The salon was well attended, with Friedrich‘s flute concert not taking place for at least another hour, and Philippe chose one of the few free table in the back of the room for them.

“Red or white, Sire?” A manservant asked just as Giacomo had sat down, “Uh - white, thank you.” “Red for me.” Their glasses were filled before the servant ducked away again. Philippe let out a relieved sigh as he smiled at Giacomo, taking his glass to sniff at the liquid, “So, how long do you intend to stay at Sanssouci?” “For another five weeks probably, I promised His Majesty that I would stay for the rest of the summer.” “I will have to leave for Paris in a month, more or less. I am still awaiting word from the king regarding my return journey.”

“You are departing so soon?” Giacomo asked over the rim of his glass, watching Philippe shuffle the deck of cards before spreading it out. “ _Mignonette_ , I am residing here since March of last year. I do not think it will be too soon.” Giacomo rolled his eyes, playfully, sending Philippe into another fit of laugher that made his curls bounce, and he passed Giacomo his hand of cards. “Ready to be destroyed?” Giacomo won the first game without any real effort. “Who got destroyed now?” Philippe huffed and threw his cards onto the table, “I let you win.” The blond snorted, “You most definitely did not, Philippe. Admit it.” The French dramatically sighed, “Alright, you won. But I am not up for a rematch.” “Oh?” “The volume in this _épouvantable_ salon is giving me a headache and I shall believe that a walk would ease it.” “I would not be too aversed to a walk myself.”

“ _Allons-y alors_.” “ _Facciamolo_!

“Something is on your mind, Giacomo, what is it.” Philippe changed the topic of the conversation they had since held on their walk through the park. Giacomo looked at his feet but did not answer. “It is the painting still, is it not?” Giacomo sighed, “Yes, Philippe, it is the painting. My mind is seeking answers, I apologize for being lost in thoughts.” Philippe tsked, “You do not have to be sorry, I understand.”

They came to a halt at a meadow where the dog keepers were currently letting Friedrich‘s Silken Windhounds run free, the dogs playfully fighting and running after each other, their barks lounder than the chirps of the birds as the two noblemen watched the scene in silence. Philippe was the one to break it with an elonged intake of breath. “I would like to say that he was an old friend of the king, but he was much more than just a friend. He was a tutor, too, and they both loved poetry to play the flute. It is said that they were lovers, too, despite him being eight years older than then crown prince.” Philippe inspected the tip of his cane before he went on. “His name was Hans Hermann von Katte.”

So the abbrevation _HHvK_ did make sense, Giacomo thought. “The name... it sounds familiar, but I do not know where to place it.” The French nodded sharply, shifting his eyes away from the dogs and to Giacomo, “He was the First Lieutenante who helped with the crown prince‘s escape attempt from Mannheim to Great Britain. They were arrested and imprisoned in Küstrin.” Dread filled Giacomo when he realized just where this was going. “He was executed, was he not,” he breathed out, although already knowing the answer. “ _Oui_. Friedrich Wilhelm failed at getting his son and heir to the throne sentenced to death, the judges would not permit it -” “He wanted Friedrich to be executed,” Giacomo interrupted, noticing the use of the king‘s name as it was already too late. Philippe‘s eyes narrowed for a moment, “The king‘s father is not known for having been an especially nice and pleasant man, especially not to his oldest son and heir."

Giacomo was unable to surpress the anger that rose in him at those words, the image of Friedrich‘s scarred chest vivid in front of his mental eye. “And since he obviously could not punish his son as he saw fit, he chose to do so with the person his son was closest with.” “Oh God.” “Oh God indeed. Friedrich Wilhelm sentenced von Katte to die and continued to keep his son incarcerated in Küstrin.” He made a short pause, and Giacomo thought he could see the French swallow hard, “It is said that the crown prince had to watch von Katte being beheaded in front of the window of his cell.”

He was breathing heavily, unsure of what to stay and thus simply went back to watch the dogs running around and about. Giacomo‘s heart had plummed and he was not sure if he could look at the French without the other noticing the tears in his eyes. “It is also said that the crown prince refused food for three days as he did nothing but howl at Katte‘s loss, and that he had not spoken about him since then. He came back as a changed man.” “I cannot blame him,” Giacomo‘s voice was merely above a whisper, he was suffering from the thought of his Friedrich being in such incredible pain. There were no words that could possibly describe what the Italian was feeling at that moment, standing under the tall oak. “I cannot do so either. I am only telling you this because the king, no matter how good the friendship, will most likely never do so himself. To repeat myself; he does not speak about Katte. And I would strongly advise you to never mention him to the king. It has been over thirty years and he still has not spoken a word regarding the events of Küstrin to anyone but his sister, not even to the court historian.” “What about the queen?” “The queen,” Philippe snorted, “has never been asked to Sanssouci. They lead different lives at two courds, here and in Berlin. She is married to the king but he is not in a marriage with her.”

They continued to stand in the shadow of the oak and watched as the keepers called the dogs back, collared and leashed them up to lead them away.

“Giacomo? “Yes, Philippe?” Giacomo looked at the French who was still staring straight ahead as if the dogs were still about. “Promise me that you will keep quiet about our talk.” “Philippe...” “Promise it!” “I will do so if I know why!” “I,” he paused, “I do not want you to become a victim of his wrath. The king gets... indignant if Lieutenante Katte is mentioned in his presence.” “I promise.” “Thank you.” “You worry about me,” Giacomo thought out loud, feeling heat rise to his head when Philippe‘s darker-than-usual blue eyes landed on him. “ _Bien sûr que je fais_. You are a friend of mine Giacomo, so do not take it wrong when I say that, sometimes, you seem to... soft for a court like Sanssouci.”

“Too sof-! Wha-! I am not _soft_ you know!” Giacomo stumbled over his words and Philippe merely smirked. “It is not free of intrigues -” “I have spend time at Schönbrunn -” “Where the only court rumor is which dressmaker is copying from another, Giacomo,” he sighed. “I know that Sanssouci may seem alluring, and it surely is no bad palace, but there are spies at every corner. Especially since the war with the Habsburgs has officially been put to an end.” “So... Sanssouci is like Versailles?” Giacomo felt a wave of relief wash over him when his attempt of lighting the mood worked and the frenchman threw his head back to laugh. “Like Versailles it is indeed, _oui_. Do not let the king hear that.”

He was sitting upright against the headboard of the king-sized bed with a book in his lap, finger absent mindly playing with the pages as he awaited Friedrich‘s return. Oh, he was tired and it was past midnight and he was _tired_ , but his body was longing for sleep just as much as he was longing to be in Friedrich‘s arms. But it did not take long for Friedrich to finally retreat to his chambers, maybe another ten minutes. He stumbled into the room and threw the door close behind him before he shrugged off his coat to dump it carelessly onto the floor and kicked off his shoes. Friedrich was utterly exhausted, with heavy dark bags under his eyes that were barely even open. Giacomo put the book down against his chest and offered a compassionate smile, “Was your day that tiring?”

Friedrich only huffed as he got out of his britches and climbed onto the bed, shuffling closer until he could align his body alongside Giacomo‘s, putting his head into his lap and breathing in heavily. He was exhausted, and closed his eyes when Giacomo started to gently storke the small hairs in the back of his neck without being asked to do so, mumbling something into the fabric of the Italian‘s tunic that the other could not understand. “What?” “Read to me, my Sanssouci.” “It is an Italian book, Friedrich.” “I do not care what it is, it could be the god forsaken list of court members,” Friedrich snapped before his voice softened into a whisper, “I merely want to hear your voice. Please, Liebling.” “You wish is my command, Your Majesty,” Giacomo chuckled, smiling when Friedrich did it him alike.

So Giacomo started reading the next chapter of the history book, a one that dealt with Ancient Rome, holding the book in one while his other hand never stopped caressing Friedrich's hair, his voice smooth and low. The king‘s breathing became even rather quickly and the Italian smiled as he looked down at him, wishing he could kiss the now almost wrinkle-free forhead but his position did not allow him to do so. He quietly closed the book and tried to move as little as possible when he put it down onto the nightstand and cleared the light. Giacomo leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes as he tried to blend out the not very comfortable position he was in and hoping for sleep to come over him. But sleep did not come, focused on the warm huffs of breath against his stomach and the weight of Friedrich‘s head on his legs as he was. He would rather stay awake all night than to disturb this moment, he decided, his heart pumping a bit faster at the comfort and security that projected from Friedrich even in his sleep.

Giacomo‘s mind wandered back to his and Philippe‘s conversation earlier that day on its own, he still could not fathom that a father could act towards his son the way Friedrich‘s father had obviously done. Whipping him for playing the flute? Executing his friend or lover and forcing him to watch? No, Giacomo just could not fathom, and he shuddered unintentionally. “Liebling, are you alright?” Friedrich apparently had not been as asleep as Giacomo had believed him to be. “I was merely thinking.” “What were you thinking about?” “It is nothing worth voicing, I promise.” “You should lie down more comfortably,” Friedrich murmured and rolled away, unaware that his missing warmth was mourned after immediately. Giacomo obeyed his words and slid down into a laying position, stretching and groaning at the kink in his neck that was already there.

“I missed you today,” he whispered and turned onto his side so he could face Friedrich, smiling when the man took his and to interlock their fingers and brushed his lips against the knuckles of Giacomo‘s hand. “I know. I am sorry for abandoning you like I did.” Giacomo tsked, “You did not abandon me, they are your duties -” “It is what it feels like,” Friedrich cut him off with his voice rather distant, eyes roaming over the Italian‘s face, “I cannot stand not having you close at all times.” Giacomo moved closer and put his head down Friedrich‘s chest, trying not to think of the image of his scarred chest that was still gripping at his heart painfully. “I think that I may have a solution for that.” “What would that be?” “I could hide beneath your desk,” he accompanied his words by turning around and grinding his ass against Friedrich‘s groin, “all day.” Giacomo was well aware that they both were too tired to start anything, but he could not surpress the tease.

Friedrich‘s laugh was like an angel‘s bell to Giacomo‘s ears and his smile got only wider when his ass was smacked playfully. “Brat.” “But you like it.” “That I surely do.” Friedrich pulled Giacomo closer against his chest and pressed his face into his hair, and the younger whispered, “You should sleep, Friedrich, or you will be even more exhausted.” He shivered when the king‘s voice was suddenly at his ear, “I cleared my schedule for tomorrow. For you, my Sanssouci, are more important.” Giacomo‘s breath hitched, “Y-you... there was no need to do that.” Friedrich only chuckled, “You are a bad liar, Liebling. There is no shame in admitting that you desire my presence since I am feeling just the same.”

“I love you,” the younger whispered without second thoughts.

“I know,” was breathed against the skin of his neck, “I love you, Giacomo. I do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

“Can you ride a horse?” Friedrich‘s question came so unexpected that Giacomo, who was sitting at one end of the lavishly set-up breakfast table, blinked hard in confusion and lowered the baked pastry he had been eating back down onto his plate. “Of course can I ride a _horse_ , what kind of question is that?” Friedrich leaned back into his chair and licked some crumbs off his index finger before cleaning his hand with a napkin, “Then there is no excuse why you should not go on a ride with me.”

When Giacomo had stirred awake that morning, the late night talk he and Friedrich had shared did not move back into his conscious right away. “Good morning, Liebling.” “Friedrich?” He breathed, his confusion had to be obvious since Friedrich chuckled deeply, “I told you that I would stay with you today, did I not.” It was not a question, Giacomo knew. “To be fair, I was really tired.” Friedrich smiled as he twirled a strand of Giacomo‘s hair around his finger before tugging it behind the younger‘s ear. “Are you trying to insinuate that I was not?”

Giacomo‘s face split into a big grin and he surged forward to kiss Friedrich, who moaned and pulled the blond on top of him, hand cupping his ass and smiling into the slow and sensual kiss that neither tried to deepen. “The mornings would be much better if I could wake up with you beside me every day,” Giacomo whispered when they parted and Friedrich‘s hands were cupping his face to gently caress his cheeks,

“I know, Liebling, and yet I cannot allow myself to do that. But I will give you enough of me today that it will provide for the mornings to come.” Their lips brushed all so slightly, the lightest of touches enough for them, but they were disturbed by a knock at the door which, although being much less lowder than what Giacomo had witnessed so far, still ruined their moment and Giacomo rolled off Friedrich with a pout. Friedrich himself did not look to pleased either as he heaved himself onto his feet and walked to answer the door, zestfully opening it and snarling a “What” before the manservant even had the chance to say a word. He paled instantly and wrung his hands together, “E-Excuse me Y-Your Majesty but you left me the instruction to notify you once breakfast would be ready.” The king sighed and drove a hand through his hair, “I must have forgotten, you are not to blame.” The manservant let out a silent sigh and probably send up a prayer to whoever was listening.

“Are they here yet?” “They are, Your Majesty, your table can be brought in as soon as you wish it.” Friedrich looked at Giacomo out of the corners of his eyes, hinting at something the Italian luckily easily understood as he made an effort to get out of bed and into the bathroom as quietly as he could, closing the door. The door was opened wider, “Bring it in.” Giacomo‘s back was aligned with the gilded wood of bathroom door, blushing heavily as he listened to at least three different servants hasting in and out of the chamber he had just been in multiple times. He knew that Friedrich had reacted that way to project him - Friedrich himself could probably not care less about the court knowing about them and their tender closeness. It was Giacomo who wanted to wait before an anouncement would be made and Friedrich, of course, was respecting his wishes.

He did not know how long it had taken for the menservants to finish their work, but he let out a breath he not even been aware of holding in when the door was closed again. “You may come back out now,” Friedrich laughed and Giacomo slowly opened the door, looking into the room before he left his hiding. He squealed when he was entwined by two strong arms from behind and pulled into an embrace. “Look, Liebling. It will be just us,” was whispered into his ear and Giacomo‘s heart skipped when his eyes fell upon the table that had been set up in the middle of the room, and it was just as sumptuously laid as for a court breakfast. “Why are we dining here? Do not get me wrong - I love it, but I shall believe it to be a breach of protocol?” Friedrich chuckled and kissed his temple before releasing him, “When did you grew concerned for the protocol? You obviously did not mind violating it when you crawled under -”

Giacomo made an choked sound and whirled around to glare at Friedrich. “I am the king, after all.” When the blond continued glaring at him, Friedrich could not do but throw his head back and laugh, scratching at the slight stubble on his chin. “There is no way I could ever forget that, is there.” Friedrich winked at Giacomo, “Do not worry, I passed a formal notice that I shall not be attending any audiences, affairs and that I deeply regret having to postpone my flute concert.” “I hope your absence will not cause a turmoil.” “Oh, I do believe my country can do without me for one single day, Liebling. There are no urgend matters but you that currently require my attention. Come, sit.”

So the two ate breakfast in the privacy of Friedrich‘s chamber, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. Giacomo was biting down on a baked treat when the question came up. “Can you ride a horse?” He chewed and swallowed before he answered, “Of course can I ride a _horse_ , what kind of question is that?” Friedrich leaned back into his chair and licked some crumbs off his index finger before cleaning his hand with a napkin, “Then there is no excuse why you should not go on a ride with me.”

“Where to?” “Well, I am not going to tell you since it is supposed to be a surpise.” “I have not seen any stables nor horses during my stay yet,” Giacomo chirped with a grin, very well aware of the tease he was being. He did not care if some would think it childish - it was fun. Friedrich raised a single eyebrow at his words, “I believe that you did not search for them thoroughly.” “Oh,” Giacomo snorted, “that could be it.” “Brat,” Friedrich spoke into his glass. Giacomo felt a hot rush going through him at the use of the pet name and he tried to swallow but found his throat dried up. He quickly reached for his own glass of sparkling wine and drowned half of it in one go. Even if he would have tried to, there was no possibility that Giacomo could have stayed unaffected from the way the other man‘s eyes were lingering on him, and he found goosebumps breaking out all over his skin when he saw how Friedrich groped himself not really unobtrusively under the table, proving himself more room by spreading his legs in an almost obscene manner.

“Do I not get a thank you for this lovely breakfast?”

Two pink patched lit up on Giacomo‘s cheeks when he allowed his eyes to meet with Friedrich‘s for a split second, but it was enough time for him to feel the raw lust that the king was projecting and instead of crawling under the table like he did the last time, Giacomo walked to Friedrich‘s side before he sank down onto his knees.Friedrich was had been watching him with eagle-like eyes since he had drank from his glass, and was now running the thumb of his right hand over Giacomo slightly parted lips before pushing it in, earning a gasp from the younger before he closed his lips around the digit in the same manner he would do with the king‘s cock, sucking on it.

Their eyes were locked once more and Friedrich pulled his thumb out of Giacomo‘s mouth with a plop to scope some of the whipped cream out of a bowl on the table with his index finger. “Come and get it, brat,” Friedrich rasped out and held it in front of the younger‘s face as bait, moaning when Giacomo obeyed and ran the the tip of his tongue alongside the digit and around its tip to get off every bit of the cream. “Good boy,” Friedrich praised, running the fingers of his clean hand through the blond hair as he hurried to free his cock that had since gotten trapped in the rather tight fabric of his trousers, and Giacomo grabbed it by the base as as soon as it had sprung free. He jerked it once, twice to get it fully erected before kissing the sensitive slit of the head and licking at the vein that stood prominently on the underside of Friedrich‘s cock, enjoying the way the older man‘s hips were already bucking.

Giacomo loved the way he could make Friedrich feel with some mere licks with his tongue and that he was the one providing such pleasures to him. The strong urge or downright need to please another so that they would be proud of was not something Giacomo had been familiar with... before Friedrich, just like so many other things that he had done as a first with him. He enclosed the head of Friedrich‘s cock with his lips yet again, sucking and jerking with his hand when he tried to relax his jaw to allow him to swallow more, gently tugging at his balls with the other. Managing to get good two thirds of Friedrich down his throat, the king‘s hips suddenly thrusted upward and Giacomo‘s head was pushed down at the same time enough for his nose to come in touch with Friedrich‘s pubic hair. Giacomo gagged, of course, and his eyes watered up. Friedrich let go of his head as if it was hot to the touch, “I am sorry, I... I did not mean to -”

The younger let the cock go free from his mouth just long enough to rasp, “It is alright, I like it when you get rough.” He had not expected Friedrich to growl and kiss him, all teeth, before taking his cock into his own hand to put it back into Giacomo‘s mouth. “My, what did I do to deserve you?” Giacomo did, and could, not answer, instead looked up at Friedrich with shiny eyes as he bobbed his head more eagerly.

Being just as turned on himself as the king was, Friedrich‘s hand in the crease of his neck and fingers softly caressing, together with the now stronger taste of bitter precum, made his eyelids flutter close and he changed plans in, literally, just the last moment when he pulled off aprubtly with a gasp. Friedrich made a disapproving sound that turned into a moan when Giacomo opened his mouth to stick out his tongue a second before Friedrich‘s hips jerked for the last time and shot spourts over Giacomo‘s hand and cheek, although the blond managed to catch most of it with his tongue. They were panting heavily, simply looking at each other in awe and Friedrich was the first one to snap out of the haze, kissing Giacomo with a possessive hand around his throat. His mind was on fire when he could taste himself into the younger man‘s mouth.

 _His, his, his_. “You are mine,” Friedrich growled into his mouth and Giacomo merely managed to whine a “Yes” before he came untouched in his breeches. Friedrich helped Giacomo into a standing position on unsteady legs, cupping his cheek as his head lolled to one side from the bliss of the orgasm. “You are getting good at this, my Sanssouci,” he spoke low, walking Giacomo over to the bed and sitting him down on its bed to help him get out off his ruined britches. “Well, I do get a lot of practise,” Giacomo chuckled and wiped at the corners of his mouth, an unnecessary gesture as cum was starting to dry on his face. “You will be in need of a complete new wardrobe if you continue to finish on these,” Friedrich smirked, hlding up Giacomo‘s britches before throwing them over his shoulder and onto the floor. “And whose fault would that be?” “When did you start to get so... _naughty_?” Friedrich asked with a fake authoritan tone and an eyebrow raised, pulling Giacomo‘s tunic off, too. The Italian was in dire need of a bath before he could let himself be seen in public.

“You simply spoil me,” Giacomo grinned and squeaked when Friedrich hoisted him over his shoulder before he could have reacted, blushing at the strenght the elder was showing. Friedrich spanked him him once on each cheek, “Oh, you indeed are a spoiled brat.”

After having been bathes and redressed, Giacomo spared Friedrich some time alone in his own chambers to allow him to prepare himself for their ride, promising that he would meet the elder at the stables. “You do not even know where they are,” Friedrich teased and Giacomo shifted from one foot to another as his face gained color. “Well, I shall believe that someone will have mercy on me and tell me where I can find them.” Friedrich chuckled and kissed him before sending him off with a playfull swat. Oh, how Giacomo wished to possess the power of invisibility when he paced through the corridors of Sanssouci palace. He feared that anyone that looked at him could tie connections between the soreness of his lips and him clearing his throat almost every time he swallowed. But since he could not be invisible to their eyes, he still greeted those he crossed paths with, of course, but declined any invitation of conversation by stating that he had somewhere else to be and continued his walk with his head hanging lol. Maybe that could make him at least somewhat invisible.

Giacomo had gotten so lost in the thought of being as nondescriptive as possible and held his eyes plastered on the floor, walking around yet another corner - with no time to react before colliding with another. He barely managed to surpess a yelp when he was knocked off his feet and onto the floor. “I apologize I -” Giacomo stammered, hurring to get back on his feet. “There is no need to apologize, Sire, I did not see you coming, either, a deep voice spoke from above him and he blinked when a gloved hand was offered to his aid.

He accepted it though, and his face was, how else could it be, in flames when he found himself into an upright position again, looking at the floor rather than at the other man. “Thank you.” “You are welcome,” the man responded, offering his hand once more, “Achille Delacroix.” Gaicomo did not have to wait for the name to guess his french nationality; his accent was just as noticable as Philippe‘s was. But that was the only thing the to frenchman seemed to share - Achille was taller and leaner than Philippe, his hair the close to the shade of the Italian‘s and long enough to reach past his chest. The gloved hand that he had not offered to Giacomo was holding a black cane, and Giacomo guessed that they must be France‘s latest fashion.

“Giacomo Casanova,” he said after clearing his throat and the frenchman quirked one eyebrow, not saying a word before he pulled his hand back. “Have a pleasant day, Monsier Casanova. I shall believe that we will encounter each other again?” Achille did not wait for an answer of Giacomo‘s before he walked off. “Making great first impressions as always, _sciocco_ ,” he mumbled to himself and straightened out his clothes. Friedrich was not yet to be found when Giacomo reached the stable, the only person he saw was the adolesence stable boy swiping dirty hay off the floor. “May I help you, Sire?” The ginger-haired boy asked, wiping at his sweaty forehead with the back of his head. “Nono, thank you,” Giacomo smiled, “I am awaiting someone.” “Here?” The boy blurred outand reeled back instantly when he realized what he had done, “I am _so_ sorry, Sire, please excuse my behaviour,” he pulled his hat off to bow deeply, his freckles face a dark shade of red when he raised again, “I did not mean to be indelicate, but there usually are not very many nobles in this part of the palace.”

“It is alright, boy. Would it be acceptable for me to take a look around?” The stableboy was taken aback, but seemed visibly less tense when he nodded and put his hat back on, “Of course, Sire, as you wish.” While Giacomo had not managed it to Friedrich before, he had somewhat of a soft spot for horses, the familiar smell of hay and fur making him miss his family‘s stable all of the sudden. And horse riding was, after all, a noble characteristic since the dark ages.

Giacomo sauntered down the aisle that was lined with horseboxes on both sides, and some of the horses put their heads over the wall with pointed ears as they noticed him. He petted some of them and came to stand in front of a box whose occupant had caught his eyes. The horse must be old, given the grey hairs that stood prominently inbetween the liver chestnut of its coat. “Hello you,” Giacomo spoke low and stepped closer, offering his palm for the horse to smell at it. Its warm and dry muzzle pressed itself align to his palm and he smiled when he gently dorve the hand up and down the bridge of its nose. The horse neighed and its eyes grew heavy when Giacomo‘s fingers moved to fondle its forehead, obviously enjoying the attention it was getting.

The Italian looked around to see if the stableboy was still present, which he was not, and thus asked with a soft voice, “And what would your name be, hm?” “His name is Condé,” Friedrich, who was suddenly at Giacomo‘s side, answered and smiled at the blond who tried to tell himself that the older man‘s hand was brushing against his just by accident.

“Is he yours?”

“Yes, he was given to me as a gift from my _dear papa_ ,” Friedrich answered after a short pause and Giacomo would have flinched if he would snarl at him in the same way he mentioned his father. Giacomo could not blame him

“You kept him after your father‘s passing?” “Why should I not have done so?” Friedrich looked at him with narrowed eyes and Giacomo had to bite down on the inside of his cheeks to not spit out something similar to _Why would you keep a gift of the man who killed your... whatever Katte was for longer than you need to?_ “He is a nice horse,” he went on, petting the horse, “he served me well.”

“How old is he?” “Thirty-one.” “Thirty-one?” Friedrich chuckled and moved to push the door open, taking the holster off its hook, “Yes, thirty-one. He is the oldest horse in my stable by far but just as fit as a horse half his age.” Giacomo stepped aside to allow Friedrich to tie Condé to an iron ring. “You still ride him?” “Only in trot or pace, he would decline too fast if he does not get moved enough.” They fell silent as Giacomo continued to pet the stallion and Friedrich saddled and trensed it with skilled swiftness.

He frowned when Friedrich pressed the reins into his hand with a smile and pointed to the stable‘s other entrance, “There is a stool you can use, since I doubt you will be able to get onto him without him.” Friedrich grinned at the look on the blond‘s face and kissed his cheek before he turned and walked down the aisle, calling for the Johann, the stableboy, who appeared on the swell of the stable door with a readied horse.

Giacomo quickly turned his head to hide its color and lead Condé to where Friedrich had gestured at. Oh, the comment had hit a sore spot of his. He knew he was rather on the short side for a man, he had been told so multiple times by women who reasoned why they did not want a second night with him. What really touched him, though, was the fact that Friedrich was allowing him to ride Condé, his stallion, a gift of his, thankfully, long dead father that was exceptionally well cared for.

Friedrich _trusted_ him.

Smiling to himself, the took the reins tighter as he mounted the horse, with the help of the stool, and was adjusting the stirrups to fit him when Friedrich rode to his side. “Are you ready, Liebling?” Giacomo wondered if he had even noticed the use of his nickname and nodded with a smile, allowing Friedrich to lead their way.

They rode side by side with a comfortable silence hanging between them beyond the park and into the garden that Friedrich sometimes used for pleasure hunts. Giacomo minded to let Condé walk at his own pace and did not really held onto the reins either, letting them lose enough at all times for the stallion to strech its neck.

Friedrich may have slowed his horse down for the sole reason of being able to get a look at Giacomo from behind, making sure to keep a mental image of the scene. Giacomo noticed him falling behind and laughed, leaning over to pat the stallion and speak loud enough for the other man to hear it well, “Do you believe it, boy? I think our poor Friedrich is too old to keep up with us, mh? Who would have thought.”

The king pressed his heels into the sides of his horse and send it into a trot until he was the Italian‘s side, standing up in his stirrups to kiss him. Giacomo gave a sound of surprise but returned it. An author as he was, his mind started to project the situation of being kissed while riding on a forest‘s path into a scene that many would probably think to be novelettish, but he felt like he had set foot into paradies. Condé neighed and threw his head back when Friedrich‘s horse got too close to him, pulling Giacomo out of his mind. “Would you like to know where we are riding now?” Giacomo grinned at Friedrich, “I thought it was supposed to be a surprise?” He found so much joy in the way the older man‘s worry lines disappeared off his face as he laughed openly now that they were away from the public eye‘s gaze.

“Oh, my Sanssouci, how much do I enjoy my time with you.” “Just as much as I enjoy mine with you, my king.” Friedrich knew Giacomo had been playing at the nickname he found ridiculous (“ _I am not a palace!_ ” _)_ , but he decided to play along, “I am anything but your king. Unless you want me to be, of course.” Giacomo snorted and rolled his eyes, “You could not keep up with me, even if you tried. And I do not wish to hurt your pride,” he held his side as he was being shaken by laughter that only intensified when Friedrich snapped, “Excuse me?”

He turned his horse so it cut off Condé, forcing him to come to a halt. “Would you mind repeating what you just said,” Friedrich spoke low and slow, but his sparkling eyes were giving him away. Giacomo bit his lower lip lighty, shifting his weight to lean on the saddle‘s pommel, “I shall believe that you heard me well enough.” “You are lucky it is still day as I otherwise I would make you get off the horse, put you over my knee and spank your bare ass right here and now.” “You would not dare,” the younger gasped, but Friedrich‘s words was laced with that undertone hat made his backside tingle and his pants seem too tight.

A mere week and a half had passed since his audience, but they played like they have done so for ages. “Are you challenging me? I could easily take you onto another ride tonight, trust me Liebling,” Friedrich said, eyes locked on Giacomo who had since began to shift uncomfortably in his saddle, his eyes away from the older‘s and his face a shade of red. Friedrich was still wearing a wide grin when they continued their ride, “Do not worry, we shall be there soon.” They arrived at a small clearing a couple of minutes later and Giacomo‘s heart jumped when he saw the white blanket that had been spread out on the forest floor and the picnic basket standing on top of it.

“Oh Friedrich -” “Get off the horse and kiss me before you lose yourself in ‘thank yous‘, Liebling,” Friedrich said and looked up at him, having dismounted his own horse and binding it to a tree with one of the two ropes he had brought with him, allowing the stallion to graze. Giacomo did it him alike, patting Condé‘s neck before he practically jumped into Friedrich‘s arms and cupped his face to indulge him into a deep kiss, their tongues fighting a soft battle of dominance. The blond pulled away far too soon for Friedrich‘s liking, “Liebling -” “You would be wise to bind him too before he escapes,” Giacomo chirped while holding up the reins.

“Brat.” The Italian sat down onto the blanket while Friedrich worked on Condé, slipping him a sugar cube and stroking the bridge of his nose before walking over towards Giacomo with a wide grin, slipping off his light jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his blouse. “When did you manage to prepare this,” Giacomo asked, peaking into the basket. “I had some help,” Friedrich answered, wondering when he had last smiled as much as he had done that day - and it was barely past midday. He retrieved a wine decanter and two glasses from within the basket and filled them both before passing one to Giacomo. “Thank you,” the younger whispered, his cheeks rosy as he accepted the glass and changed his position onto a cross-legged one. “You are most welcome,” Friedrich sipped from the wine before he lowered the glass and closed his eyes to turn his face towards the sun.

“Are you hungry, Liebling?” Friedrich had not moved an inch and Giacomo answered a tad bit too quickly, “No, not really.” Instead of answering, the king merely opened one eye to look at him. “Maybe a bit.” “Choose what you want to, I hope I picked the right foods for you.” Giacomo alternated between halved grapes and small pieces of Asiago cheese, eating slowly as he and Friedrich sat in silence, simply enjoying the moment they were sharing. He watched the horses graze and listened to the chirping of birds, it was a picture of such peacefulness - “Giacomo” “Yes?” “Thank you,” Friedrich spoke, “for being here with me.”

Giacomo swallowed. Katte was on his mind again, he was not jealous, of course he was not, how could he be jealous of a dead man, but it was the thought of him being the first _after_ Katte, after so many years of solitariness that Friedrich did not deserved to go through. He uncrossed his legs and moved closer to Friedrich, taking one hand of the older man into both of his and leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered and Friedrich slowly turned his head to look at him, the tips of their noses almost touching when the older man cupped a hand against the blond‘s face, smiling when Giacomo leaned into the touch. “My Sanssouci,” Friedrich murmured before he captured Giacomo‘s lips again. The needy sound Giacomo let out as the lids of his eyes fluttered close urged Friedrich on to deepen the kiss, which he did, his tongue pushing dominantly into the younger‘s mouth. “Take me, Friedrich, take me now,” Giacomo whined, sucking Friedrich‘s bottom lip between his teeth to underline his words. “Are you sure?” Friedrich pulled away, searching Giacomo‘s face as if he could find his answer there, worrying that he might press the younger into something he was not comfortable with. He was proven otherwise. Giacomo looked eyes, bit his lip and put his hand onto Friedrich‘s thigh before allowing it to move upwards. “I am sure, Friedrich. There is a... matter that I need to speak with you about.” “I am all ear,” Friedrich chuckled, but frowned when Giacomo‘s hand on his chest began to push him down. The blond tsked playfully at his resistance. “I thought you were all ears?”

His back landed on the blanket, mouth agape when Giacomo started to work on the fly of his trousers without any further ado, pulling them down together with his undergarnments enough to reveal his cock that was slowly but steadily coming to life. “Liebling...” “Sh,” Giacomo cut him off with a kiss and straddled his hips when he had gotten out of his own britches, Friedrich‘s cock resting over his cleft, “I do the talking. You listen.” Friedrich‘s hips bucked, and he moaned when Giacomo aligned him with his hole. “You are not prepared...” His head fell back and his eyes rolled close when he found himself burried in the younger from one moment to another.

“And you doubted my ability to ride,” Giacomo breathed, moving his hips in circles to get used to the penetration. “Well, lucky for you I have met many adventurous women in my life.” Jealousy burned in his veines at Giacomo‘s words and he growled when he grabbed his hips hard enough to leave impressions of his fingertips. But the younger removed them and pinned them onto his stomach, starting to ride Friedrich in earnest. It did not take long for his thighs to start burning from the exertion, but the position the two men were in allowed Friedrich‘s cock to brush against with prostate with each thrust. While he could not use his hands, Friedrich bucked his hips every time Giacomo sank down, drawing needly little moans and whines from the younger that made his head spin. “Let me touch you Liebling, please, I need to touch you,” Friedrich repeated over and over like a mantra until Giacomo released his wrists, and he pushed up the blond‘s tunic to be able to touch more of him, running his thumbs over the erected nipples.

Giacomo came, with his cock untouched, soon after, falling over and forward onto Friedrich who huffed and chuckled, having finished before the blond had done. Friedrich kissed a sweaty temple of the blonde, whispering assurances of his love, keeping his eyes closed as he worked on catching his breath. “I love you,” Giacomo spoke against his chest and Friedrich‘s heart clenched at the teary sound of his voice, “I love you, Friedrich.” The Italian got chocked up and Friedrich took his face into his hand, breath hitching when Giacomo‘s tear-filled eyes met his. “What is wrong, my Sanssouci? Did I hurt you?” “No, of course you did not,” the younger gave a half sob, half laugh and wiped at his eyes. “I was merely overwhelmed b-by my feelings.”

Friedrich pulled him down for a kiss, “There are no words to describe what I am feeling for you right now, here, with you on top of me.” He kissed his forhead next, “ Do not ever leave me, I do not know how I could be without you, Giacomo. You... complete me.” “Oh Friedrich,” Giacomo smiled through his tears and carefully unmounted Friedrich, breath hitching when the softened cock slipped out of him. He gingerly put on his britches again - as much as he longed to simply lay with the elder, his paranoia was creeping up now that the blissful daze of his orgasm has somewhat lifted.

“You are not hurt?” Friedrich had pulled his trousers, too, and rolled onto his side to look at Giacomo with worry-filled eyes. “No I,” the blonde‘s face got a shade darked, “I prepared myself with an ointment earlier.” “You planned this?” Friedrich grinned, wagging one eyebrow, “You truly are something else.” Giacomo snorted, “As if you did not do the same.” “You know me too well, Liebling.” “Well, you are not as inscrutable as you believe yourself to be.” Friedrich heaved himself into a sitting position and tried to fix his hair somewhat, “Would it be alright for us to ride back?” “Of course. Why are you asking?” Friedrich smirked, “I feared that you would not be _able_ to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truly horrible pun (if you found it) was inspired by [Melian12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melian12/pseuds/Melian12) xD


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad I finally managed to finish this chapter - it was a beast. It's also a gift for the lovely [Melian12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melian12/pseuds/Melian12) since it's her birthday today. I hope you have a good one!<3
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

It was not how it had been supposed to happen.

The first few days after ‘their day‘ together were peaceful, both men having nourished from it and Giacomo was no longer in a sour mood when Friedrich would retreated to bed as he was already close to sleep. Giacomo also spend less time alone, instead meeting with Philippe for a walk in the morning after kissing Friedrich goodbye for the day. It was no surprise that Achille always could be found near Philippe, frenchmen as they were, but Giacomo had been surprised when he was told that they were cousins. _“Are you trying to fool me?” Philippe and Achille both broke out into laugher after sharing a look, “Non, mignonette, we are most definitely not.”_

The bubble of happiness, however, bursted on the fourth day. The Italian usually wrote into his diary in the morning, reliving the prior day - a habit he had picked up on one of his many travels - when he was still on bed and after Friedrich had left for his duties, to put it back into hiding in one of his suitcases when he had finished. But that morning he had forgotten to put it back. He was running late for his agreed-on meeting with Philippe, having lost track of time, and he did not want to keep the French waiting for much longer. Giacomo already felt like he was already betraying their newly-found friendship by having to lie about his relationship with Friedrich, and he prayed that he would never be asked where he was staying.

Giacomo unwarily left it under the covers, where the servant found it while making the bed and dutifully placed it on the nighstand without a second thought. While Giacomo‘s day had been going rather well with games of cards and pleasure walks with both frenchmen, Friedrich‘s had been anything but easy. He had spend more than four hours trying to come to terms with the british ambassador that had been send to his court by George III., but it had been to no avail. They were not a step closer towards a possible solution of the tension between Prussia and Great Britain. And than there had the upcoming masquerade ball he had promised to hold in honor for Luise Ulrike‘s birthday, although she herself could not be present. So he and the representative his sister had send from Sweden in her name had argued for two and a half hours about which wine should be passed out. Friedrich would have kicked him out if he had not promised the ball to Luise Ulrike.

Friedrich was exhausted and since he still had about an hour before he would give his flute concert, he decided to take a quick nap and returned to his chambers earlier than ususal. Giacomo was out, which he acknowledged with a heavy and drawn-out sigh as he sat down on the edge of his bed to get out of his boots, kicking them off once he was able to. His eyes catched sight of the, to him, unknown book on his nightstand that had not been there when he had left in the morning. Must be one of Giacomo‘s, he mused, a tired smile playing around the corners of his mouth as he took it into his hands. Friedrich would often wonder how it all would have went if he had simply put it back down as soon as he opened it on a random page and saw that it was a diary instead of the novel he had expected it to be.

Giacomo‘s writing was neat and even, but since Friedrich‘s Italian had become rather rusty after years of not using it he could not read what he had written, yet he still smiled to himself when he flipped through the pages. Giacomo had scetched some things between the paragraphs and had even put dried flowers in between pages. Yes, it did feel like an invasion of the blond‘s privacy but Friedrich just could not put it aside, wondering, or maybe hoping, that he would find any mention of him. And he did so indeed, his heart somersaulting when he found the entry marked with ‘August 7, 1764‘. _He invited me to stay at Sanssouci - and trust me when I write that I simply could not believed it and thought it to be a joke, but he had been serious_ it read, and Friedrich followed the foodnote to the bottom of the page. _August 18_ , the day Friedrich had taken him out for the ride, and he ran a gentle finger over the words - _My heart no longer belongs to myself. It is his, and I shall hope that I may care for his heart someday, too._

Friedrich‘s breath catched in his throat when he turned onto the next page, his heart painfully clenching in his chest. He stared at the studiously sketched face in front of him with unblinking eyes, his sight getting unfocused as his eyes moved onto the written words above it. _Hans Hermann v. Katte, Küstrin 17??_. He could not longer breathe, the walls of his chamber suddenly seeming to come closer towards him. He needed air. He needed to get out. The book hit the floor carelessly as Friedrich dashed out and to the only real hiding place he had: his library. “It truly is a shame that there is another waiting for you in Italy, _mignonette_ , as I would love to take you home with me,” Philippe purred as he and Giacomo stood on the salon‘s balcony, having closed in on the blond to whisper into his ear before pulling back again. They both had had their fair share of wine, and Giacomo‘s face had been rosy prior to Philippe‘s flirtation. “Philippe -” The frenchman threw his head back to laugh and emptied his glass, looking into it mournfully.

“And it is a shame that Prussian glasses are so... _tiny_.” Giacomo giggled into his hand, “Or maybe your thirst is simply too big?” Philippe took Giacomo‘s equally empty glass, kissed his cheek and disappeared with the promise of getting them refilled. He definitely was not swaying on his feet, thank you very much, but Giacomo kept a hand on the railing. “Would you excuse me, Sires,” someone suddenly called out from within the salon, clapping his hands to get attention twice, “I was send by His Majesty to announce that His Majesty‘s daily flute concert will not take place tonight. His Majesty apologizes for the inconvenience, but he is needed somewhere else.” Murmurs broke out behind up-held hands, “Again?” “This is unlike him -” “There has to be something going on -” “Again?” But out of all the courtiers in the salon and on the balcony, Giacomo carried the biggest confusion. Friedrich had not mentioned any change of schedule. He had even stated that he was already awaiting the concert where they would be able to see each other after he had kissed him in the morning.

Giacomo looked around and slipped away when Philippe was nowhere to be seen, the frenchman returning mere moments later with the promised glasses. Realizing that the Italian had abandoned him again, his eyes narrowed as the corners of his mouths pulled down and he walked off to find Achille. “Friedrich?” Giacomo knocked on the door of the king‘s chamber, entering when the corridor was clear even without an answer. The older man was not in and it did not seem that he had been so today. He staggered over to the bed, almost tripping over something that was lying on the floor - cursing in Italian under his breath as he unsteadily bend down to pick it up.

It was his diary. He blinked in confusion, the gesture exaggerated by the amount of alcohol he had consumed when he found his mind unable to form a possible scenario of how it had gotten from his hands onto the floor. Well, he thought, and threw it over his shoulder and onto the bed in a high arc. On to his next riddle - Friedrich. Where was he? Giacomo called out his name, as ridiculous as it seemed to himself as there clearly was no one else present. But calling out, in difference to searching for Friedrich, was the only thing he knew he could do. The palace spread out vast and Giacomo was neither in the mood nor shape to search its entirety, but also not appealed by the salon.

Sleep, however, did seem most inviting. It took him some effort to get out of his attire and into his nightshirt, and when Giacomo had managed to do so with almost faceplanting the floor only once, he found himself lying on his side of the bed, facing the windows and sleep incredibly far away from him. He realized that he could not sleep in the spacious bed without Friedrich in it, too. It was empty without him.

Friedrich had entrenched himself in his library with the clear order of not being distracted by anyone, sending his valet away, too, as he tried to appease him. He must had been standing on the exact same spot for a long time, for how long he could not tell, but the summer sun was starting to set. He was standing there, overlooking his gardens with his arms hanging at his sides. Friedrich did not know why he had bolted, why seeing Katte‘s face sketched in Giacomo‘s diary had pushed a dagger into his heart and twisted it in the wound. He squeezed his eyes shut when Katte‘s face, his real face, was floating in front of his inner eye more prominently so than he had been doing for many years. His face had never left, of course, it, and the memories connected with it, had never left him alone. How could it with Friedrich pernicketly taking care of his shirne and all but when he and Giacomo had started being... whatever they were, the painful memories had began to ease away.

Now they all had returned in a mere second. The coldness of the iron bars as he pressed his face against them and his shoulders started to ache from stretching out his arms so far. _“Veuillez pardonner mon cher Katte, au nom de Dieu, pardonne-moi!” “I love you.”_ He had mouthed, wishing, hoping, praying that the other could read the words from his lips. Katte‘s last words, his last smile and the last look of those tear-filled eyes as he called in a raspy voice, _“There is nothing to forgive, I die for you with joy in my heart!”_ The sound of a sword being pulled out of its scabbard and the sound of the same blade cutting through flesh and bone, ending a life so incredibly fast. The sickening sound of body and severed head hitting the execution platform at different times. The last thing Friedrich had seen before throwing was the bloodied blade glistering in the sunlight as it was raised once more and his father‘s cold chuckle as he payed the executioner and praised him for doing such a marvelous job.

Friedrich could not do but break down, his knees hitting the floor and a sob escaping from behind the hand he held pressed against his mouth, wrapping his free arm around his middle. Katte, his Katte. Oh how he missed and mourned him, still. He could no longer surpress his sobs, openly crying as he hunched over of the sheer force of them. He did not care if anyone heard him, no, all that mattered to him in that moment was the pain. The pain of losing his first and, to this day, dearest friend, of losing the man that teached him love. Friedrich did not know when he had last cried like he was doing then, tears and snot wetting his face.

He had never believed in the saying that the first thing you forget about someone was their voice, that you could not keep it in your memories for too long without having heard it again - and his forehead was touching the floor, having utterly broken down, when he realized that the only words he did remember Katte speaking had been his last, rasped out words. _“There is nothing to forgive, I die for you with joy in my heart!”_ No, Katte had not died for him. Katte, his Katte had died because of him. It had been his idea to try to make it to France and eventually England. Other memories were resurfacing, too, memories so far pushed back that Friedrich managed to tell himself that they had never taken place. The first time they met, the way their eyes had locked when Friedrich walked behind his strutting father past a group of soldiers. The first time they had played the flute together, and the way Katte had watched him play with a smile on his lips. How Katte had layed him down on the soft blanket in the shadow of a tree, how their fingers were locked and their lips touched - no. He knew had to stop before he would lose himself.

Katte, his Katte, was long gone and never to return, burried with his ancestors in Wust. Friedrich, in all thirty-three year, had not managed to gather the courage to go and visit him. He probably would never be able to do so. Friedrich would never see him again, but there was someone else his heart was urging him to see - Giacomo. He took a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself, wiping at the mess on his face with both of his hands. Giacomo. Yes, he still had Giacomo, the blond-haired, cheerful and quickly blushing Italian who had stumbled into his life, most unexpected so, carrying a light that pushed so much of the darkness in his life away. He was being shaken by trembles that followed his crying as he stood, leaning against a bookshelf and waiting for himself to get into a state in which he could allowed himself to be seen in by others. Why Friedrich felt guilty when he paced back to his chambers and saw Giacomo lying in his bed, back facing him and sound asleep, he did not know.

Giacomo was, again, alone as he woke up. He had been so tired the past evening that he had eventually fallen asleep, missing Friedrich‘s arm around him that would pull him close against his chest and the kiss that would be given to the side of his neck. Oh, but Friedrich had been in bed. The sheets on his side were crumbled and the pillow carried his signature scent when Giacomo pressed his face into it. He could not recall being kissed goodnight and neither had Friedrich woken him, like he usually did, to kiss him before he left. Both were things that, together with the nagging headache he was starting to feel, did nothing to lighten Giacomo‘s mood.

Sighing, he threw the covers back. While he wished to stay in bed, he knew he could not do so without being caught in the act by the manservant that stood in Friedrich‘s service and he most definitely was not eager for that. He had been a rumor at court for some days, too, since someone had seen him accompanied by Friedrich in the stables. While some argued that they were close friends, other argued that they had never seen the king look at someone like he had looked at Giacomo and some merely said that Friedrich did not have any close friends. Him being caught in the king‘s chamber, in his bed, would do anything but stop them from running their mouths.

Giacomo pouted when he saw that there was also no note left for him where the older man could have suggested them meeting for dinner or a walk. It was most unlikely, but he tried to tell himself that maybe Friedrich was simply too busy. Friedrich was sitting at his desk bend over some files that needed handling, but he found himself unable to concentrate on the task. His mind was wandering off to the prior day‘s events over and over again, Katte still so present. When he had awoken that morning, he feared that he might burst into tears as his eyes fell onto Giacomo‘s sleep-relaxed face, his barely fluttering eyelashes and his slightly parted lips. God, he had looked like an angel. Friedrich did not deserve him - no, even worse. He felt like he had betrayed Giacomo by allowing the memories surrounding Katte to get so close to him.

That feeling of betrayal was why he had not dared to touch the younger, not even when every cell of his body was urging him to do so, to gather him into his arms and to fall asleep in his company. Friedrich could not do so. His mind wandered off, again, but this time into another direction. Giacomo. He was brooding about what Giacomo could be doing - he was probably in the salon, enjoying himself with games. Did he notice the missing note? If so, was he hurt? Friedrich had tried to leave him one, to invite him for dinner, but he had not been able to do that either. If Giacomo would simply cast him aside, it would be nobody‘s fault but his.

Friedrich‘s breath hitched and he practically jumped up from his hair, standing leaned over the desk with his palms on its top for a few moments before slowly making his way over to the window front of his study. He found himself often looking out of windows in the last time, but he could think well if he did so. “Cousin, look,” Achille‘s voice had dropped to a whisper and he gestured with his head, making Philippe look up from the book he had been reading. “What is it?” “Looook,” the blond frenchman dragged out, rolling his eyes as he gestured again. Both of Philippe‘s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, “He is looking horrible.” " _Oui_ , he is indeed,” Achille said, trying to watch the Italian as inconspicuously as he could.

Horrible may have been an exaggeration, but Giacomo knew that he must be making a somewhat pitiful picture to look at. While he had slept for a considerable amount of time, his eyes still carried heavy bags under them and his head felt like it was carrying a ton of bricks, trying not to flinch every time someone laughed a bit louder. “What did he do yesterday?” “I already told you that I do not know, I was getting us more wine when he was gone all of the sudden.” “Go, talk to him.” Philippe wanted to argue hat he would not let himself he treated like this by someone he called a friend, but Achille had been right, and he sighed as he closed his book. “What is it with you and disappointing me, _mignonette_?” Giacomo‘s heart sank when Philippe sat down next to him, crossing one leg over the other and looking at him. His shoulders slumped and he cleared his throat before he whispered, “I know that I must be a horrible friend.” “No, well, what you did was in no way nice, but I carry more worry about you than disdain. You do not seem to be feeling too good.”

“I am tired and I have a massive headache from last night's wine, that is all. It is nothing for you to worry about.” “I shall believe you then.” Philippe did not believe him, but decided to let it go for then. “Do you have anything planned for the day?” “No, not a thing,” Giacomo spoke low and swallowed. He was surely overreacting, but he felt like he was being cast aside by Friedrich. _Maybe he had grown tired of him? Fucked him enough to be satisfied and ready for another?_ “Would you like to join me on a ride later?” “Sure, I would like that very much.” Philippe smiled, “I am glad.”

Friedrich had since tried to sit down and start working, but failed once more and thus was standing in front of the window still, staring at the courtiers that sauntered around his gardens. If the English ambassador awaited his notice he would simply had to wait, Giacomo too heavy on his mind to concentrate to something else. Friedrich loved him, a realization to which he did not just come to today. He really loved him wanted to push him away, to keep him at an arm‘s distance - for Giacomo‘s sake. Even though his _dear papa_ was long dead and cold, Friedrich still feared that he would come back again, as mind-boggling as it was, to take away what he loved, to degrade and humiliate him. He needed to talk to Giacomo.

Giacomo, Philippe and Achille had been chatting when a servant appeared in the salon, carrying glass bowl filled with small white envelopes and making his way through the crowd of courtiers. “An invitation from the king,” he repeated as he came to a halt at the table where the three were sitting, each nodding in acknowledgement as they took one out of the bowl. Giacomo felt a stab in his heart when he opened it and saw that it was the formal invitation to the masquerade ball in honor of Luise Ulrike of Prussia, Queen of Sweden. He and Friedrich had talked about it prior, the older having asked for Giacomo‘s opinion about the music that would be played - only to be given a standart formal invitation. “How interesting,” Philippe chirped, “it has been some time since I went to a _bal masqué_.” “I do not have a mask,” Giacomo realized too late that he had spoken his thought out loud, and blushed when Philippe put an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close for a moment, “Ah, do not worry _mignonette_. I have one or two to spare.”

Friedrich turned towards his valet, hands held in the small of his back, “Did you find out where Casanova is to be found?” “Yes, Sire. He was seen in the salon by my men and in companion of Philippe de Lorraine and Achille Delacroix.” Friedrich did not answer, only averted his eyes away from the other before he faced the window again. His hands were clenched into fists, “You may leave now.” “Of course, Sire.”

Giacomo and Philippe did not go on their ride as the frenchman was, all of the sudden, needed somewhere else and left in a hurry. _Well_ , the blond though, _how else could it be. You reap what you sow._ He decided to go to the stable alone, feeling rather uneasy being alone in between the rest of the court. “Johann?” The ginger-haired stableboy stopped pushing the wheelbarrow loaded with hay to look at him, “Yes, Sire?” “Am I permitted to borrow Condé for a ride?” “You are, usually, but he is not well today and the king wishes him to stay in his box. But you may go in if you wish, Sire.” Giacomo forced himself to a smile, “Thank you.” Johann continued his work, and the blond watched him go for a moment before he turned on his heels and made his way down the aisle to the stallion‘s box.

He could hear soft neighing from inside but saw to familiar head peaking over the gate, and he he swallowed drily when he looked inside and spotted Condé resting on the hay, legs tucked underneath him. “Hey boy,” he whispered as he opened the box and closed it behind him before he squatted down. The stallion raised his head to brush his nose against Giacomo‘s palm. “At least someone is eager to see me, are you not,” the blond whispered, feeling himself tearing up as he sat down, not caring that his britched would probably be ruined, with his back against the wooden partition and gently guided the horse‘s head to rest on his outstretched legs. Condé neighed quietly, allowing Giacomo to run his hand up and down the side of his neck and the bridge of his nose. “This is not a good day for the both of us, hm?” He spoke and fished in his jacket for the apple he had brought from Friedrich‘s chambers, offering it to the horse who eagerly snatched it with erected ears.

“He is at your stable, Sire.” “Is he alone?” “Yes, Sire, he came alone.” “Thank you. You may leave.” “Of course, Sire.”

Giacomo completely lost track of time as he sat there, petting the horse‘s head and finding peace in the way it relaxed under his hands. He did not know when his tears had started to get wet. Friedrich‘s retired riding horse offered more comfort to him than the king had done in two long days, days that seemed to have stretched into an eternity for Giacomo. He longed for Friedrich, to be in his arms or preferably underneath him. They had been doing so well... He was pulled from his thoughts when Condé suddenly raised onto his legs, throwing his head back before lowering it again to nibble at some hay. Giacomo had to chuckle and wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his blouse, standing up himself and brushing off his britches. He would need to change before he could return to the salon.

The later the hour got, the more restless Friedrich grew. He needed to explain his situation, his longed to assure Giacomo of his feelings for him. The younger man deserved to know it all. _My heart no longer belongs to myself. It is his, and I shall hope that I may care for his heart someday, too_. “I wish for nothing more,” Friedrich whispered when he recalled the words he had read in Giacomo‘s diary earlier, “for nothing more.”

Some of Friedrich‘s courage, however, flew off when he noticed the empty chair at his concert. Giacomo did not show up, not even late. The last of his courage was gone when he returned to his chamber after dinner and did not found him there either. Well, Friedrich did not blame him. Why would Giacomo be supposed to sojourn where Friedrich wanted him to if the latter could not even manage to leave him a note? He was already burried under the blankets when he suddenly could make out Giacomo‘s voice from through his door. Or rather his obviously tipsy giggles as he bid goodnight to - another man, Friedrich held his breath as he tried to listen what was being said, but the voice was speaking too low to allow him to hear. He quickly closed his eyes and stayed still when Giacomo entered the room, letting the door fall close behind him. Friedrich listened with a racing heart as Giacomo got out of his clothes, mattress dipping when he got into bed.

“Friedrich? Just... talk to me, _please_.” He knew the flinch he made gave away the fact that he was awake, but he pressed his lips close to stop himself from speaking. A part of him would like to snarl that if he could amuse himself otherwise, without Friedrich, he should not be expecting anything. Giacomo let out a choked sob, quickly turning onto his stomach to hide his face in the pillow and muffle his cries. Friedrich clenched his jaw as he silently changed his position to be able to look at the blond. Oh, how his heart clenched at the sight of Giacomo‘s shoulders shaking as he cried, the way his hands were holding onto the pillow like a lifeline. But the same part of him that had convinced him to stay quiet before was now stopping him from reaching out. He turned again so his back faced the crying man. Coming to think of it later, Friedrich could never understand how he managed to find sleep that night.

When Friedrich woke early the next morning, Giacomo was restlessly sleeping beside him. Oh, he looked exhausted even in sleep and the elder could not prevent his eyes from welling up. He was the cause for those dark rings around his eyes, he was the reason why he had cried himself to sleep - and Friedrich made a strangled sound when he realized so, using one shaking hand to brush a strand of Giacomo‘s hair back from his face.

“I am so sorry for loving you.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the updated tags! 
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

It were days like this one that made Friedrich wish, just sometimes, that he was no king; he was pulled into the last of the preparations for the upcoming masquerade ball the second he had set foot out of his chambers. “Where shall we put the chairs, Your Majesty?” “The violinists requested another music rest, Your Majesty.” “The wine supplier arrived, Your Majesty, and has invited you to try -” Friedrich rubbed at his temple before he snapped, “Just do it,” shutting the grape of people that had gathered around him up successfully. “Do what you need to do and give them what they requested and I shall not attend any wine tastings without an appointment. Go!”

They darted away and Friedrich swallowed when he rested the back of his head against the door, the image of the sleeping man behind that door prominent in front of his inner eye. Oh, how he longed to simply turn on his heels and go back inside, to gently wake him by pulling him into his arms and apologize for the poor excuse of a man and partner he had been. Friedrich‘s valet, the only person to not have flinched and flee at his words, noticed his hesitation and eyes him openly. “Are you alright, Sire?” Friedrich blinked hard and cleared his throat as he pushed himself off the door, “Indeed I am.” “The conductor is waiting for you, Sire, to come to a conclusion of the pieces you would like to have played.” “I apologize, I must have forgotten - but where can I find him?” His valet‘s eyebrows shot up for a mere second, “In the ballroom, Sire.”

He had ignored him, was the first thing that was on Giacomo‘s mind when he woke and he sniffled, pulling the blanket closer around him. He had been drunk, yes, but crying was crying and Friedrich had decided to fake being asleep. Friedrich knew that Giacomo loved him and he did not care enough to comfort him. Well, he had been blind or stupid enough to believe that Friedrich could maybe love him back. Giacomo snorted humorlessly at his musings. Love, as if. He should have known, he knew that it was common practise for a king to pick whoever he wanted to play between sheets with and to let them fall whenever he was done with them. Giacomo‘s stomach churned when his mind suddenly projected the image of Friedrich imagining that it was Katte instead of him as they...

Giacomo shuddered and practically jumped out of the bed. This was to no avail. He changed out of his pajamas and into legere court attire before grabbing his pen and a sheet of paper. King of Prussia or not, he was not going to allow Friedrich to treat him, Giacomo Girolamo Casanova, in such a way. He hastily wrote, most respectfully of course, that he regrettably had to decline His Majesty's invitation, ending the short letter that he hoped that the ball would be just like His Majesty wished it to be and his formal signature. Folding the paper once he had finished writing, he put it in the front pocket of his trousers. His eyes tingled when he looked at his belongings - where could he take them? The room he had rented in Berlin as surely no longer available and he did not want to spend another night like he had the last. Philippe. Giacomo had to inaugurate him, as the French was the only one he still had at this court. Damn any consequences that may follow.

It was not hard for Giacomo to find his friend, as he was sitting at his regular table in the back of the grand salon. “Good morning, mignonette,” Philippe greeted and smiled when he spotted him, leaning further into his chair and drinking from his glass. “I have to talk to you.” _Oui bien sûr_ , sit down -” “Preferably in privat and under four eyes.” Philippe cocked an eyebrow, but stood and followed Giacomo as he strode out of the salon and to a less visited end of a corridor. The blond looked around once before he wet his lips to speak, “There is something that I have to tell you, but I need you to promise that you shall never tell another.” “Of course, _mignonette_. What is it that troubles you so?” Philippe took a step forward and into Giacomo‘s spacem to which the Italian answered by backing away and almost into an ancient looking bust if it would not have been for the frenchman catching him by the arm. “ _Mignonette_ -” “Friedrich and I, we are... were not mere friends, Philippe. I stayed in his private chambers.”

Oh, the French did not need to hear more to understand where Giacomo was getting at. He coult not believe it, the disbelieve clearly written on his face, “You what? Have you lost your mind -” “Sh!” “What on God‘s good earth were you thinking?” There it was. Giacomo swallowed and averted his eyes to the floor to hide the fact that they were growing wet with unshed tears. “You love him?” “Yes, Philippe, I do, but he does not feel the same. In fact, he has been ignoring me for two days now.” Giacomo looked up with tears-filled eyes when Philippe cupped a hand against his cheek, wiping at a stray tear. “I am so sorry, _mon beau_ , I should have warned you.” “It would have been useless. One cannot control their heart.” “The ‘someone‘ in Venice -” “A white lie I made up for which I am sincerely sorry.”

“What are you going to do next?” “I do not yet know, my belongings are still in his rooms and I want to stay as far away from them as I possibly can. Maybe I will travel home sooner. I do not know.” “Do you wish to stay in mine?” the French asked without thnking twice and smirking inwardly when those big brown eyes looked up at him. “I will use the canapé.” “You would allow me to?” “ _Bien sûr_ , _mignonette_. You are a friend of mine.” Philippe smiled at him and Giacomo gave a weak one back, clearing his throat and fishing something out of a pocket, “Would you mind... giving it to him? It could spare me some time to retrieve my belongings without the risk of meeting him. I do not know if I would be able to handle it.” “I will, do not worry,” the frenchman said as he accepted the folded piece of paper.

Friedrich was in his study and going through the verdics of the week when he was disturbed by a knock on the door, he gestured at the guard that he should check who it was. “It is Monsieur Philippe de Lorraine, Your Majesty, he is requesting to see you.” He sighed and out down his pen, “Allow him in.” “Thank you for accepting my request, Your Majesty.” “Monsieur de Lorraine.” Friedrich tried not to snarl, standing from and walking around his desk as Philippe did some mock of a bow that made his curls bounce in a way that the king hated. “What do you want.” “I have something from Monsieur Casanova that he wishes you to have.” Friedrich felt something clutch at his heart when he spotted the letter the other was holding. “Why are you keeping it,” he breathed, clenching his fists where he kept them in the small of his back. He was thankful that the frenchman could not see it, as the slight tremble in them never would have gone unnoticed.

“Well,” Philippe huffed a laugh, “he asked me to deliver it to you, _Votre Majesté_ , as he is... otherwise occupied currently.” He offered the letter to Friedrich, holding it between his index and middle finger like it was one of his play cards. Friedrich knew he was provocing him, and he resisted the urge to kick the French out of his study. “Occupied doing what,” he snapped and snatched Giacomo‘s letter from Philippe‘s fingers. “That I do not know.” “You may leave,” Friedrich said, turning his back towards the other as he looked down at the piece of paper as it was the most unusual and fascinating thing he had ever seen. “With the greatest pleasure.” “Are you still bothering Gi - Monsieur Casanova?” The question left his mouth as Philippe was already half out of the door, and the latter smirked to himself before he turned on his heels and re-entered the room, leaving the door ajar, “Excuse me?” Friedrich raised his chin defiantly, “It has come to my ears that you are - how shall I say it, forcing yourself onto my friend and guest.” Philippe could not keep the snort in, but quickly pressed his fist against his lips in an effort to stop any further laughing. He knew he was on thin eyes and Friedrich‘s eyes were burning into him. “That would most definitely be false information, Your Majesty. As opposed to others _I_ am a man of honor.”

“What?” “Oh, I keep my hands away from claimed men.” Friedrich had taken a step into his direction, and Philippe could see that his jaw was working. “I do not happen to see what you are getting at.” “Did he not tell you? I thought he is a dear friend of yours.” Friedrich‘s eyebrows pulled together in confusion and oh, did Philippe drink in the sight. “Did he not tell me what.” “That someone is awaiting his return to Venice. Good day, I must be going,” he chirped and slipped out of the room. Friedrich‘s face fell and was drained of all color that had rose into it. This was a joke, a cruel and unnecessary joke. It could not be, not his Sanssouci - he hurried to unfold the paper, having to lean against the edge of his desk when he finished reading.

 _I hope that the ball will be splendid and to Your Majesty‘s wishes._ Giacomo was not coming tonight, having turned down his invitation in a cold and formal manner that lacked any personal touch and which Friedrich had never expected. _Nononono_ , this was not right. He did not pay the frenchman‘s words any second thought, very well aware of how he loved to run his mouth. His Giacomo would never betray him, there was just no way. But the letter... Friedrich stormed out of his study still clutching it in his hand.

He did not knock before he threw the door to his private chamber open so forcefully it banged against the wall, and his breath catched in his throat when he saw that the Italian‘s suitcases and books and even his hairbrush from the nighstand were gone. Friedrich‘s lower lip trembled and tears slowly filled his eyes as he stood in the middle of the room rather haphazardly, arms hanging at his sides as he tried to figure out what he should do. The whole situation... it was all his fault. It was when he wondered if Giacomo could have already left Potsdam that he spotted a folded sheet of paper on his pillow, laying like the only remant of the other‘s presence.

Friedrich sat down at the foot of the bed, hands trembling as he unfolded the note. It had been written with an unsteady hand, he noticed, and the first tear made its way down his face. _My heart still belongs to you, and I fear that it will do so for the rest of my life. But now that you no longer desire to have me around,_ a word had been messily stroke through, _I am granting your wish by leaving._ His father was laughing at him from his grave, of that Friedrich was sure. Laughing about how stupid his poor excuse of a son was, stupid enough to make Giacomo feel like he was no longer wanted. _“Vater, please do not -” “Stupid, useless boy! It is what you deserve!”_ He leaned forward, propped his elbows up on his thights and burried his face in his hands, silent tears running free as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he had managed to possibly lose the only person he had come to like and to love in thirty years. All because of his pride and stubborness. Could he ever bring good instead of pain and suffering to the ones he loved?

When Philippe returned to his chamber, he was more than pleased to see Giacomo cases not standing in a corner of his room. Since he was at Sanssouci in official duty, he had been given one of the more spacious ones near the king‘s own chambers. “Are you already done?” “I tried to hurry. Did you give -” “ _Oui_ , _mignonette_ , your letter has been delivered.” Giacomo nodded to himself, and Philippe tried not to let his pleasure about the recent turn of events show. This was playing into his hands better than he had expected it to. “May I ask what you wrote to him?”

“I turned down his invitation for tonight.”

“What? Why would you do that?”

“Probably because I cannot stand to be around him,” Giacomo snapped, “or do you think this is easy for me?”

Philippe offered an compassionate smile, “I apologize, of course it must be hard for you.” “Yeah,” the blond whispered, his shoulders slumoing. “I just... feel so used and I am doubting the truthness of every word he ever said to me.” His voice dropped until it was merely above a whisper, “I did not know that it was so easy to make someone believe that you love them.” The French wordlessly pulled him in for an embrace, and Giacomo let out the first sob as he wrapped his arms around his waist and hid his face in his chest. Philippe cradled the back of Giacomo‘s head as he allowed him to cry into the fabric of his blouse.

“Are you sure that you do not want to come tonight?” “Philippe -” “Not for him, _mon beau_ , but for your sake,” the French whispered, resisting the urge to press a kiss into the soft blond hair that was tickling his cheek. “Remember that it is a _bal masqué_ , the chances of you crossing paths with him are slim and even if you do, neither of you will be able to recognize the other.” “Do your really think so?” “Yes, Giacomo. You might as well enjoy the time you are going to be spending here at Sanssouci.” _You are my Sanssouci_ , Friedrich‘s voice ecchoed in his head as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

Friedrich still had hoped that Giacomo would show up, despite his formal refusal. He may have picked pieces of music which he knew where the younger man‘s favorite and while his face was hidden behind a mask, of course, he had made sure to let the raspberry-colored handkerchief that Giacomo had gifted him with peak out of the front pocket of his jacket. He felt like a French carrying their white flag over a battlefield, but he did not care. Friedrich wanted Giacomo to spot him, despite it being the exact opposite of the ball was supposed to achive.

The king glided through the crowd of courtiers in disguise, looking for the only person he cared about in that moment and wordlessly ignoring the many flirtations that were being thrown at him left and right. He had no problems to distinguish any blond he was adressed by from _his_ blond. The ball room was fully packed with the feast creeping closer to its peak, and Friedrich‘s mood had gotten more and more dampened when he, even after almost two hours, had no luck with his search for Giacomo.

He was trapped in a rather flirtatious conversation with a man around his age, with him the one being that was being flirted with, when he thought to have finally spotted him. Yes, that had to be him. Dressed in perfect evening attire in a gorgeous shade of blue, a fitting mask and wearing a bow in the same color of his attire that held his combed-back ponytail. It was him. His Giacomo, his heart was jumping in his chest. Friedrich was unsure if he should go and talk to him, hesitatingly staying at a distance where he could watch him without being catched doing so and without Giacomo noticing.

The blond seemed to be enjoying himself without Friedrich, throwing his head back every now and then to laugh at something, just well enough, being accompanied by two men he was clinking glasses with as many times as he laughed. It did not take him much to recognize them as the frenchmen at his court. Giacomo laughed again, so openly that he could make it out from the music and the chatter that surrounded him. Oh, how he longed to walk over to him, to spin him around and to craddle his face, to pull him into a kiss and to show him what he meant to him. Friedrich excused himself to his partner of one-sided conversation and slowly made his way over to the group. The frenchmen saw him first, sharing a look before disappearing from Giacomo‘s side and mixing under the crowd. They left so abruptly than the Italian made a sound of surprise and almost choked on his mouthful of Champagne.

“I am happy to have found you here.” Giacomo‘s throat dried up despite him having just swallowed when he heard Friedrich‘s voice so close from behind him, and he closed his eyes to secure his composure for a moment before he slowly turned around to face him. “What does Your Majesty wish?” Friedrich was taken aback and searched Giacomo‘s masked face as he reached out to just touch his upper arm, but the younger dodged away from his hand. “Giacomo...” “What are you doing, Friedrich,” he snarled, not managing to cover the hurt in his voice. “Showing mercy on me?” The dagger was in his heart once again when Friedrich thought to see those brown eyes he loved so much welling up under the soft light of the chandelier above them.

The frenchman had retrieved another, fresh glass of Champagne and edged away from the festiveness into a corridor. They could easiliy hear the music and chatters from inside the ballroom, it offered them more privacy for their talk. “How much?” “Two drops shall be sufficient I believe.” The drops clear liquid landed in the glass, being swirled around to mix it under. “It will not kill him, will it?” “ _Non_ , not unless he decided to drink the whole vial,” the blond chuckled and patted the other‘s shoulder.

Friedrich and Giacomo were looking at each other in silence when Achille and Philippe returned, each carrying two glasses. “Sires,” one of them greeted and offered a drink to the king. Thankful for the distraction, Giacomo swallowed and took a few steps away from Friedrich, moving to stand somewhat behind the frenchmen. Friedrich accepted what was offered to him without a second of hesitation. He was still confused about Giacomo, the way he had reacted to seeng him stand in front of him. He had not been angry like Friedrich had expected him to be, oh no, he had looked downright pained. The hurt that had and still was radiating from Giacomo... it made Friedrich feel like he was the worst of all the men at his court. And he probably was.

Friedrich somehow had not realized that he was alone, or as alone as one could be in a room with a good hundred of other people. Giacomo and the two frenchman had left him to be alone, though, and the thought of what was his being with them - he shook his head, trying to get it out of his head. He had no right, he had put in effort to show what he did not want Giacomo to be his. And yet his heart was in his throat from the hot and raw jealousy that was racing through his veins. He never had experienced in such a strong manner, and he whirled around, breathing heavily as if from exertion when he frantically searched the ballroom for Giacomo. Friedrich‘s eyes catched him almost instantly, there was no way he could have missed him.

Giacomo and the French ambassador were sharing a slow dance, palm held against palm as they moved around each other. Friedrich was sure to see them lock eyes and he clenched the glass in his hand, not caring that it could crack and break. He must be panting, of that he was sure, and was seeing red as he watched the scene. The courtiers had formed some sort of circle around them, watching and applausing at the dancing men. Friedrich could not believe that someone was touching what was _his_ , dancing with what was _his_. It was almost animalistic, the sheer jealousy that was building up to an incredible level when Philippe‘s fingers brushed against Giacomo‘s wrist, touching the soft skin on it‘s sensitive inside that was _his_. But it was the fact that Giacomo seemingly allowed the French to do so, to touch him, to move around him so close their hips almost brushed, that drove Friedrich crazy.

_“Oh, I keep my hands away from claimed men.” “...someone is awaiting his return to Venice.”_

He snapped, throwing the glass onto the ground, ignoring the strange looks he was receiving and stormed over to where Giacomo and Philippe were dancing. The orchestra stopped playing with a screech and gasps erupted through the mass of people when Friedrich shoved the French away to roughly grab Giacomo by the throat, pulling him close to snarl, “So that is who you are.” The blond‘s mouth was opening and closing without him being able to bring anything audible out, and his arms flailed when he was dragged, still by his throat, out of the room. Countless fans were opened as murmurs broke out behind them, loud enough to make the air humm. Philippe was pale in the face as he stared into the empty air - this was not what he had wanted to happen, he though, and wiped his sweaty palms at the fabric of his trousers. What was he going to do now?

Giacomo was coughing and scrambling with both of his hands at Friedrich‘s who still held onto his throat with an iron grip. His eyes were watering, he could not breath properly and he would be lying if he said that he was not scared, more so than he had ever been. He had not seen Friedrich like that either, his face a dark shade of red and his pupils blown so wide his eyes seemed black, they had not even been this wide when they had shared intimacy in the forest - “Friedrich,” he managed to rasp out, his name being followed by a choking sound, and he heart felt like it was about to jump straight out of his chest when Friedrich pushed him into the room they had shared until that morning. The release of his throat did not last long, just enough for him to draw in two desperate intakes of breath before he was choked again and the back of his head hit the wall Friedrich was pressing him against hard enough to make his vision to black at the impact.

Friedrich smacked him across his face with as much strength as he could muster, the back of his hand connecting with his other cheek immediately after. Tears shot into the younger man‘s eyes as the burn spread out, feeling a wet streak running down - the signet ring Friedrich was wearing had cut into the skin of his right cheek. He was sure he could taste blood in his mouth, too. “Fr-” “Shut your mouth, whore!” His left cheek was smacked again, hard enough to send Giacomo tumbling to the floor now that his throat had been released and he scrambled to get up, touching his messed-up face with shaking fingers when he stood on unsteady feet.

He was hit again on the same cheek and lost his balance, falling to the floor with a cry, sobbing as he tried to get up again. Tears were burning on his sore skin and he was absolutely sure that his head was throbbing so bad he feared it would explode. Friedrich hoisted him up into a standing position with an even tighter hold on his throat that before, disturbing the flow of air and surely leaving bruises. Giacomo‘s eyes were opened wide and merely blinking from utter fear and he put both of his hands onto the older man‘s lower arm as if he could stop him. But the grip he had on him got only tighter and he was pulled forwars, and his vision got unfocused when he felt Friedrich‘s breath on his sore and already swollen face.

“You _tricked_ me.” “I did not do -,“ Giacomo managed to bring out, his voice barely above a scratch. “I did not allow you to speak, whore!” Giacomo‘s eyes squeezed shut as he prepared for the palm to land on his face yet again, but it did not do so. He was twirled around instead, and Friedrich fastened his wrists behind his back with a piece of clothing before he was pushed until he was thrown over the edge of the bed. _Nononono_. Gasping for air, he tried to get his wrists free from their restrain when he felt Friedrich‘s fingers grabbing the waistband of his britches. “Fri-edrich,” he sobbed, “no -” Friedrich merely pressed his face into the mattress by a hard hand in his neck as he roughly bared him, “Shut your mouth whore or I will shut it for you.” If Giacomo had not been already crying he would have been by then. He did not understand what was happening and his face was in agonizing pain where it connected with the rough fabric of the bedspread.

“You tricked me into believing that we were one, withholding that you are a whore trying to find someone to keep your bed warm while you are away from _someone_ in _Venice_.” Friedrich had accentuated ‘someone‘ and ‘Venice‘ with two lashes of his belt on the tender skin of Giacomo‘s unprotected ass. The Italian was too shocked to react to them at first, not able to process the first two licks before another two landed in the cruel and unforgivingly punishing rhythm that Friedrich had fallen into. _He did not know_ -

“Do not act as if you do not know what I am talking about,” Friedrich snarled, lifting the leather belt high above his head, unaware that he was imitating the exact same posture he had always feared his father to take. “I do no-ot,” Giacomo sobbed, trying to free his hands even though he knew he could not possibly do so, the restrain around his wrists too tight to allow any attempt. The next lash hit him across his tailbone, and a new wave of pain shot up Giacomo‘s spine making him cry out and buck. His whole body was shaking, shaking from fear and pain and he had began to wish for unconsciousness some time ago just so the pain would be gone. “Fr-iedrich, stop, _ple-ase_ stop,” Giacomo whispered, too worn out to bring out anything louder and feeling like he was going to pass out at any time. _Giacomo!_ he thought to hear someone calling his name, but he could not tell if it was real or just in his head. The sound Friedrich made from behind him resembled that of a snarl and he lifted his arm again, unaware of how dark Giacomo‘s skin had gotten under his attention. “I will stop once I am done with you.”

Friedrich did not manage to hit the younger man again before the door was bursted open.

Philippe de Lorraine could not believe what he had witnessed. He was panting as he aimlessly stared into the air where Giacomo and Friedrich had just been, this behavior... it was not what he had expected to happen. The drops in the Champagne were supposed to make the older man more easy-going, maybe enough to get close with someone other than Giacomo so the latter would see, so that he would start to see _him_ , Philippe, instead of Friedrich. Philippe simply wanted Giacomo to want him, too. He was unsure of what to do, very well aware that he could not simply ran after the two without making himself suspicous and glued on the spot until the orchestra started playing again and the murmurs ebbed down. Once he could back away from the crowd without being noticed, he did so, stanting at the very edge of it with hopes to be able to find Achille.

There he was. His cousin had spotted him first and was walking over to him with a white-knuckled grip on his cane. “Achille -” “Sh,” the blond shushed him. Philippe could see that he was unusally nervous from the way he looked over his shoulders as if he expected to be jumped at any time. He took the smaller man by the bizeps and somewhat determining guided him closer to the exit. Philippe did not really have to struggle to get his arm free, he succeeded fast and took a step away from Achille.

“What did you put into them?” Achille looked around again before he fished the vial out of the pocket of his jacket, and Philippe could see that his hand suffered from a tremble. “It is but a simple solution of a powder that I acquired in Versailles - a mere stimulator.” “Then why did he lose his godforsaken mind in there,” Philippe snarled, motioning to the other to walk further down the corridor. “I do not know, cousin,” Achille swallowed, “maybe it had been adulterated.” The curly-haired frenchman grit his teeth together, allowing his eyes to stay close as he listened to the other‘s heavy breathing. “What is going to happen to him? If he should die, Achille, we should be already leaving -” “How am I supposed to know,” Achille barked, “all it did to me was allowing me to last twice as long and to fuck twice as many in half the time.”

Philippe cursed under his breath, running a hand over his face - his and Achille‘s eyes meeting with shared dread they perceived the pained cry that ecchoed off the walls. “Oh God -” He wanted to run to where he believed it to be coming from but Achille held it back to speack to him before allowing him go, “Do not say a word, I will come for you soon.” Another cry followed though it sounded rather like a scream of pain than a simple cry, and it was not hard for Philippe to be able to track it back to the wing of the king‘s chamber now that the whole court could be found in the ballroom, leaving the rest of the palace abandoned.

He was breathing heavily, trying to be as quiet as he possibly could be when he leaned his ear against the wooden dor, flinching when the sound of leather hitting naked skin, one he was familiar with himself, made it through to him. Giacomo‘s sobs, Philippe could tell that it was Giacomo almost instantly, were muffled, which meant that he probably had his face hidden in something, and he could hear Friedrich snarl something incomprehensible. His heart was racing against the wall of his chest. _This was all his fault_ , he realized, trying to open the door to stop the Prussian from abusing the younger but he found it to be locked. Philippe shook the knob, getting rougher by the second.

“Giacomo!” He slammed the palm of his free hand against the door, feeling tears prickle in the corner of his eyes at another hard lash of the belt.

“Philippe - what are you doing,” someone rasped out from behind him and Philippe whirled around to shot a pleading look at Achille, who had come with the king‘s valet and all six guards Sanssouci had to offer in tow. “I cannot open the door, he must have locked it.” “I have never seen him like this - I do not know what happened,” the valet mumbled, searching his bunch of keys for the fitting one with unsteady hands, but he took to long for Philippe. He snatched it from the man‘s hands and hurled it out of sight, “I believe it is something that we all wish to know,” he snapped before he threw himself against the door. Philippe did so once, twice, causing the wood to audibly crack every time his shoulder met with it and he had expected the guards to stop him from destroying the king‘s property, but neither them or the valet said anything.

The door slammed open and against the wall, hard enough to leave a dent in it, when the French threw himself against it for the fourth time, sending splinters of wood flying. His heart almost stopped when he saw Friedrich raising the belt high into the air, clearly not having noticed the break-in, and Giacomo‘s broken body draped over the edge of the bed. Friedrich‘s valet stormed past him and over to the two, grabbing the belt from the king‘s iron hold and throwing it to the floor behind him. Philippe watched it slide over the floor with a disgusted curl of his lips. Friedrich was then pushed backwards and away from the Italian rather roughly, stumbling and hitting a chest of drawers. Philippe snapped out of his shock and hurried to aid Giacomo, pulling out the pocket knife he always kept on him to cut off the restrains from around the man‘s wrists. They had been so tight that Giacomo, when he, as Philippe suspected, had tried to struggle out of them, had rubbed his skin raw. “Giacomo! Hey, Giacomo -” he stumbled over his whispered words and sank to his knees to be at eye level with the blond. The younger man‘s eyes were glassy and the French doubted that he had even realized yet that he was no longer being hit.

He still held his arms behind his back despite being no longer bound. “ _Mignonette_ ,” Philippe‘s voice quavered even though it was not higher than a whisper, he was scared that he may startle Giacomo if he would speak up louder. He had wanted to touch his face, to stroke his hair back, but his hand hovered mere inched about it. Philippe did not dare to touch Giacomo‘s bloodied, already bruised and swollen face. Giacomo blinked twice, almost carefully as he was still being shook by sobs, and finally refocused his eyes to look at the other. “P-Philippe?” “It is okay, _mon ange_ , I am here, it is over.” He almost would have started crying, too, when Giacomo let out a relieved sob. But he knew he had to stay strong, for Giacomo.

Friedrich swayed on his feet and he tried to regain balance by holding onto the chest of drawers he had been pushed into, feeling like his head was emerging from a fog, blinking hard like he had regained consciousness just then. He did not know how he had gotten from the ballroom to what he suspected were his rooms, and while his vision was getting unfocused with each beat of his heart he could make out the blurred silhouettes of one in front of him and two on the bed to his left, one bend over it while another was next to him. The person that was standing in front of him was speaking to him, he could see ther lips moving, but Friedrich could not make out but a flow of unintelligible words. The first and last thing he could hear was someone shouting “Sire!” before he fell into darkness.

“Sire!” Philippe looked up to see Friedrich passed out in valet‘s arms, who just barely was able to keep him from hitting the floor like a rag. “Get his doctor!” One guard took it onto himself and scrambled away. The two frenchman looked at each other for a second before Achille, too, came to Giacomo‘s side to help him into an upright position by gently hoisiting him under his arms. Giacomo‘s head tipped over, he was too weak to keep it up and Philippe could not take his eyes away from his messed-up face as he pulled the bedspread off the bed and wrapped it around the blond‘s waist to somewhat preserve his modesty, hardening his heart when Giacomo drew in a sharp intake of breath at the fabric brushing against his swollen backside. In the short moment Philippe had beared to look at it, he had seen that it was starting to fade from a dark red to purple, from the very top of his bottom down to the middle of his thighs.

 _Friedrich had done a punisher‘s job superbly._ “Philippe,” Giacomo breathed out, his chest heaving and Philippe swallowed, unsure if the hand he kept in the small of the man‘s back provided comfort or fear. “It is okay, _mon ange_ ,” he reassured, “it is over. He cannot hurt you anymore.” The the frenchmen guided Giacomo a few steps away from the bed when the valet and two guards carried the still unconscious king of Prussia onto his bed. “I have send notice to the doctor, Sire, he will arrive here shortly,” the guard that had scrambled away spoke, only slightly out of breath, and raised his hand to his temple to salut. The valet merely nodded. “I will take Monsieur Casanova to the chamber I am staying in, he should not have to see the king anymore,” Philippe tried, but failed, not to snarl.

“Y-yes of course, Sire,” the valet did not look away from Friedrich as he dabbed his forehead and temples with a cloth he had dunked into cold water. “I shall believe it to be wise if the doctor will attend Monsieur, too.” “He will be. I will send him to you, Sire, once the king has been aided.”

Achille and Philippe walked the Italian out of the room without either of them saying a word, walking him past the grape of courtiers that had gathered in the corridor after being alarmed by seeing the running guard. Giacomo tried no to hear to their gasps and whispered expressions of shock, his head still hanging low as he let himself be guided. He was hurt, way more hurt than by the the burn on his face and the pain in his neck from when Friedrich had pressed his face into the mattress, even more hurt than the almost unendurable throbbing where he had been whipped. His soul was in pain, Friedrich had lashed out at him with a violence that Giacomo never would have expected the gentle, always caring Friedrich - _h_ _is_ Friedrich - to show and he did not even know what he possibly could have done to deserve it.

Friedrich had _hurt_ him. He had hurt his body, heart and soul.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while laying flat with the flu, so please bear with me if it contains more mistakes than usual :-)
> 
> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Giacomo had to be carried, or rather held upright by the Achille and Philippe under his arms, the last few meters to Philippe‘s rooms for he was too weak to keep himself steady on his feet. They put him on the bed and on his stomach, he never would have been able to put any weight onto his backside, and Achile went into the ajoined bathroom to retrieve a bowl of water and a soft cloth to clean Giacomo up while Philippe helplessly stood next to the bed and watched how the Italian made no attempt to change his position, palms flat on the mattress beside his head. While it hurt, he still had his sore cheek pressed into the bedspread.

He could not find the will to move. Philippe took the bowl from Achille‘s hands as he returned, gesturing at him to leave and putting the bowl down onto the nightstand. He squatted down at Gicomo‘s side, “I will clean you up now, alright?” The blond only blinked and Philippe spoaked the cloth into the luke warm water, wringing it out. He gently began wiping at the dried blood on his cheek, and the more blood he cleaned off the less bad the cut came to light - it would probably leave a scar, but all the dried blood had made it look bigger.

Giacomo flinched when the cloth was moved over the wound and Philippe hummed soothingly until he had cleaned it. “Can you lift your head, _mon age_?” The French whispered, putting a finger under his chin and nudging him on. “I need to see the other side.” Giacomo obeyed and heaved himself up to rest on his elbows, high enough for Philippe to turn his face towards him and to clean the corner of his mouth from dried blood, too. He soaked and wrung out the cloth again before he cleaned Giacomo‘s sweaty forehead and temples, and carefully dabbed at his swollen eyes. Philippe made sure to be extra gentle, his guilty conscience heavy on his mind. Since it was practically, and literally, his fault that Giacomo was hurt, he would give his all to make him feel better. How could he ever tell him?

He gasped without making a sound when he realized that Giacomo had started crying again, silent tears making their way down his face in twin streaks that were touched by the flickering of the cande light. Giacomo spoke before Philippe had the chance to, “You do not always have to use your fists to hurt someone.” His words carried so much pain but at the same time were spoken in a voice that was flat, too flat and too different from his usually rather light and happy way of talking. “What?” Philippe pulled the cloth away, looking down at Giacomo who did not look at him.

“You do not always have to use your fists to hurt someone,” he whispered, his eyelids heavy when he blinked slowly. “Giacomo...,” Philippe could not do but to kiss his forehead, not minding that maybe Giacomo was not desiring to be handled with such a manner. “ _Je suis désolé, je suis tellement désolé mon ami. S'il te plait pardonne moi_ ,” he whispered against his skin, his own eyes burning when he pulled away to clean Giacomo‘s forehead again. “Do not apologize, it is not your fault.” Philippe‘s heart clenched, _if he knew..._ , and he stood once having cleaned Giacomo‘s face to his satisfaction. He hesitated before he tenderly pulled the blanked off from around the man‘s waist, and he found himself unable to keep from gasping at what he saw. Some of the skin had started to detach, and the angry red that could had been found had changed into purple. The sheer brutality that Friedrich must had used made Philippe want to march right back over to the king‘s chamber and strangle him with his bare hands, even though he knew that if he wanted to strangle the culprit he should strangle himself. _His fault_.

Philippe soaked the cloth and hardened his heart when he moved it across the sore flesh. Giacomo‘s breath hitched and he tried to roll onto his side, away from the hand that was, in spite of being gentle, causing him pain, but he was pinned onto his stomach by a hand in the small of his back. “I am sorry, _mon ange_ , but I need to clean it before -” A sob left the blond, who quickly pressed a palm over his mouth as his shoulders started to shake when he tried to keep his composure. Or what he had left of it, really, with his abused and nacked backside being on full display to the French. “It is okay, I will wait until the doctor is here,” Philippe hastily abandoned his task, throwing the cloth back into the tinted-red water and instead sitting down on the bed, running a soothing hand over Giacomo‘s trembling back, whispering words of reassurance as he listened to him cry.

The frenchman stood from the bed at the knock at the door, opening it to see the doctor standing in front of him rater in a muddle. “Can I find the other patient here?” “Have you already attended His Majesty?” “Ah - yes, y-yes,” the elder man stuttered, running a hand through his hair, “there was not much for me to do -” Philippe could clearly see how distressed the doctor appeared to be, and he stepped aside to allow him to enter. He swallowed hard. “An intoxicating powder, nothing I can do.” “His Majesty will live, will he not?” “Yes, Sire, he shall.” Philippe tried not to let his relief show, and decided to stay close to the door when the doctor made his way over to Giacomo, who kept his eyes squeezed shut.

“I cleaned the wounds as good as I could without causing him too much pain.” The doctor nodded without looking at him from over his shoulder, putting his doctor‘s bag onto the bed beside Giacomo. He squatted down to inspect the wound on the Italian‘s face with gentle and skilled fingers before moving to his backside, giving a sigh of resignation. “I will give you a salve that needs to be applied to his... sore three times a day for three to four days before it is wrapped with bandage strips to prevent any infection. The cut does not require stitches and it will heal just fine it kept clean and dry.” Giacomo did not react to the doctor‘s words and Philippe came back to his aid. “I will take care of him, doctor.” The doctor nodded again and put out what he had mentioned: salve, bandage strips and, to Philippe‘s confusion, a green vial of medication. “To help him calm.” The French raised an eyebrow, if Giacomo was not already calm - “You will see, Sire,” the man‘s voice had dropped low when he grabbed his now closed bag, “traumatic events can take some time to settle in.

 _Traumatic events_. Philippe watched, with a slighly open mouth, as the doctor turned and left, closing the door behind him with a soft _click_. Giacomo‘s shuddered breathing stood loud in the otherwise quiet room, and he stretched to pull a pillow close, burrying his face in its depths. He would have liked to hunch himself into a fetal position, but he could not pull his knees to his chest. The skin on his backside did not allow him to do so. “Sh, it is okay,” Philippe whispered, sitting back down onto the bed to gently card his fingers to Giacomo‘s hair.

“Whore.” “What?” “He - he said that I w-was a whore,” Giacomo sobbed into the pillow, the frenchman glad to having caught his words. He wanted to calm him, to reassure him that it would all be okay. _What could he possibly say? “Friedrich did not mean it, he was drugged by me”?_ “I will put the salve on and then you can go to sleep, alright? It is late, _mignonette_ , and you need to sleep.” Philippe guessed that it was past one in the night, and he found himself longing for the ability to turn back time and change the decision that had singlehandidly hurt the only person he had tried to protect. But since he could not do so, he continued to sit next to Giacomo, opened the jar of salve and applied it as gentle as he could, shushing Giacomo‘s cries that he still released into the pillow.

Giacomo had drifted into a restless slumper once Philippe had put the bandage strips on, and the French cleaned his hands before he pulled a blanket over his body, swallowing when he heard his breath tremble even in sleep.

When Friedrich woke, his head felt like it was about to explode given the throbbing. He never had experienced a headache this bad before. He groaned and raised his hands to run them over his face, only then noticing that something cool and wet was being held against his forehead. Friedrich cracked one eye open, wincing as the dimmed light from the candles made pain shoot through his head. The cold wetness disappeared from his face and someone shuffled from sitting on the bed into a standing position.

“Sire?” It was his valet. Friedrich groaned again, successfully opening his other eye, too, and trying to get his vision to focus. He did not know what happened, the conversation he had with Giacomo in the ballroom the last thing on his mind that was not clouded. “What happened,” he rasped out, trying to sit up. He was hindered from doing so by a hand holding his chest down without having to use any real strength.” Your doctor ordered bedrest for tonight, Sire.” _The doctor?_ “What happened,” Friedrich asked again, being swept away by a wave of unknown dread. It did not go unnoticed to him that the valet was avoiding to look him in the eyes. “What -” “Do you truly not remember a thing, Sire?” His eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

Well, he remembered the masquerade ball, the conversation and oh the way Giacomo‘s eyes shined in the light of the chandelier... “Do you not remember what you did, Sire?” He shook his head, an action which he immediately regretted once it made his world spin, groaning in relief when the cloth was re-applied onto his forehead. “No... but from the pain I guess that I drank one too many?” Friedrich chuckled but sobered fast once his valet did not join in.

“You were drugged, Sire.” “What?” “Yes, Sire. The doctor confirmed it after running his tests.” “I was _poisoned_?” “Yes, Sire.”

Friedrich rubbed at his temples, haltering in his motion when the other man asked him again, “Do you... really not remember what you did to Monsieur Casanova, Sire? Do you have no memory of it?” He looked up and into the valet‘s face, the man‘s eyes pinned onto a spot somewhere beside Friedrich‘s head on the pillow. “What did I do.” “Sire, I do not believe it would be wise of me to -” “Wilhelm, what did I do,” Friedrich whispered, his heart in his throat as he awaited the valet‘s answer, who breathed in deeply to steady himself. “You beat him, Sire, in a way that I have not seen since your father passed.” Friedrich‘s world stopped while it had been spinning and making him nauseous mere moments ago. Not just his world stopped, but his heart, too, and even the rushing in his head ebbed down. Could one forget to breathe? Because Friedrich experienced all those things when the images came crashing over and back to him like an avalanche.

He could practically feel his fingers enclosed around Giacomo‘s throat, the way the younger man‘s finger fought to get his off. He remembered that he had slapped him in the face, oh the face he loved so much, so hard that his palm had hurt, he could suddenly hear the pained cry and the thud as he fell to the floor. Friedrich thought to see those usually warm and loving brown eyes right then, looking up at him opened wide and with utter fear. _“Fri-edrich,” Giacomo had sobbed,_ _“no -”_ He had whipped him until his arm and shoulder had began to hurt from the exertion. He had abused him. His Giacomo, his Sanssouci, the vulnerable light that had stumbled into his life. It took the rest of his breath away when Friedrich realized, with the greatest of pain, that he had looked up to his father in the same way Giacomo had done after he had been pushed to the floor of his father‘s study, awaiting the first of many hits from his father‘s cane.

_“Vater, no! Stop!” “I do not want to hear another word coming out of your mouth or you will regret it deeply!” Smack. “Vater, please stop!”_

_“Fr-iedrich, stop, ple-ase stop,”_ Giacomo‘s voice was back in his ear, and Friedrich let his head fall back onto the pillow, his body convulsing and he let out a strangled gasp when the sheer intensity of what he had done showed itself.

He could not think properly, nothing helped to keep those images down, if he would have been able to he would have thrown himself out of the next window in disgust. “Sire? “I need to... I need to see him,” Friedrich stumbled over his words, trying to flip the blanket he had been covered with back as tears were already running freely. He did not even notice them. “I do not believe that he wants to see you, Sire, I apologize. He is being taken care of.”

The valet wiped at Friedrich‘s forehead again, the king was sweating a lot, causing the thin cotton of his blouse to stick wetly to his chest. “My Giacomo, I need to see him - let me see him...” Sire -” “My Giacomo -” “Settle down, Sire!” The valet‘s concern only intensified when Friedrich‘s eyes went rather glassy and unfocused, he feared that his words could not reach him. “I need too see him...” A glass was held to his lips, so much Friedrich was able to perceive and he drank without really being aware of doing so. “Monsieur de Lorraine is taking care of Monsieur Casanova, Sire. You should calm yourself.” Friedrich only managed to mumble Giacomo‘s name once more before he was pulled back behind a heavy black curtain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not betaed, all mistakes are mine.

Friedrich spend the next four days in a delirium, the only periods he was responsive were use to get at least some fluids, food and medication into him. Wilhelm, the king‘s valet and a man of honor as he was, spend every minute at Friedrich‘s bedside, even sleeping next to him on a canapé that was too small to fit him comfortably. The doctor that had been called again when Friedrich had shown no sign of waking up, only stated that he believed it to be a side effect of the drug wearing off and that he could not possibly say how long the king would stay in this state.

The ministers had been pressured into making an oath that they would keep silent about the king‘s condition, though everyone involved was very well aware that the courtiers had already caught wind of what had happened outside of the ballroom that night, and many rumours arised around with with some even stating that they were now terrified of ever making attending another audience with His Majesty. “The people are talking, Sire,” the second minister of justice snapped to the valet, who dutifully held a cold cloth to the incomprehensible mumbling man‘s forehead. “Let them talk.” The minister theatrically gasped, “Let them talk? They are scared that they might be the next victim of such a brutal outburst -” “His Majesty was poisoned, Hardenberg, watch your mouth. It was confirmed by the doctor that he had not been in the right state of mind.” Clearly having not expected such outburst, Hardenberg took a placatory step back away from Wilhelm, “Excuse me, Sire, I was not thinking.” “Indeed you were not.”

Friedrich‘s murmurs increased in volume, and Wilhelm told the minister to leave the room before he stood from his chair and bend over the king‘s face, patting his left cheek slightly to pull him into consciousness. “Sire?” Unintelligible groans were the only response Friedrich gave, and the valet whispered something under his breath that sounded like a curse as he hurried to wet the cloth again, wiping Friedrich‘s sweaty forehead, “Sire?” The king groaned again when his eyelids fluttered open and blinked fast and hard for a couple of times to adjust his eyes to the brightness of the flooded with sunlight room. He could feel the breeze of warm summer‘s air on his face - the windows had been opened fully, letting in the carefree and happy chirping of birds and the subdued sound of people talking in the garden, too. It was macabrely unfitting for his current situation.

Swallowing down a dry throat, Friedrich turned his head to get a look at his valet. “How long was I asleep,” he rasped, wincing when he tried to clear his throat. Friedrich thankfully drank from the glass that was being held to his lips soon after, his hand shaking when he tried to hold it himself. “Four days, Sire,” Wilhelm answered low. putting the glass back onto the nightstand and sitting down in the chair he had pulled to the king‘s bedside.

“Four days,” Friedrich repeated in disbelief and rather to himself while he rubbed at his eyes. “Yes, Sire. It took your body some time to execreat the drug.” He leaned back into the pillow, staring at the ceiling when he already felt tears beginning to collect themselves in the corners of his eyes. He had not been able to keep the images of him beating Giacomo into a state of utter defeat out of his head, of course. Those images sometimes, in his most delusional dreams, became blurred with the ones of his father beating him to form some sort of cruel stage play and Friedrich was sure that he had been able to hear his father‘s cold laugh as backdrop the whole time.

“Giacomo...,” he breathed raspily, “how is he?” “Monsieur Casanova is... doing well under the circumstances,” Wilhelm answered after a pause of hesitation, watching the cloth in his hands rather than the king‘s face. Friedrich allowed his eyes to close and turned his face away from the other man. The guilt he was feeling was almost unbearable, it tore away at his insides and held his heart in an iron hold. How could he ever look Giacomo in the eyes? How could he ever apologize for doing... what he did? “You were not in your right mind, Sire,” his valet spoke as if he had been able to read his thoughts, but no reaction came. He could merely see Friedrich‘s adam's apple bobbing as the king tried to keep his mask on and upright. “It is no excuse,” Friedrich finally said, “I should have stopped, even if I was not in the rightest of mind I... it is no excuse.” “I do not mean to be impertinent, Sire, but how do you expect Gia- Monsieur Casanova to forgive you if you cannot forgive yourself?”

Friedrich‘s head whipped back around, “How could I ever expect him go forgive me? No, I would not expect forgiveness, not even in my wildest of dreams. I will be forever greatful if he should ever let me look at him again. My Giacomo...” The valet must have let out a tale-telling sound unknowingly, because Friedrich‘s breath catched in his throat and his eyes were wide as they searched for eye contact.

“No...”

“I am sorry, Sire -”

“Do not say it...”

“Monsieur Casanova left for Saint-Cloud earlier today, Sire, together with Monsieur de Lorraine and Monsieur Delacroix.” Friedrich bursted into sobs, not caring that Wilhelms was right there next to him to witness is, not caring that he probably already knew about what had happened between him and the Italian prior to the ballroom incident. How could Friedrich care if someone knew, hell, if Maria Theresia of Austria personally knew, when he had lost the man he loved due to his own actions. He had lost Giacomo, his soft and always loving Giacomo that he had so carelessly lashed out at, abused and finally drove into the arms of the frenchman. Giacomo was on his way to France, and Friedrich would probably never see him again. Friedrich rolled onto his side, facing away from his valet and wrapped his arms around himself after pulling his knees closer to his chest, ignoring the pain in his back that had resulted from the days of laying flat.

Oh, how he already mourned after his Giacomo. The way the corners of his eyes always carried wrinkles when he laughed, the way he blushed at the slightest of embarassment or tease. Friedrich‘s mind wandered back to the day they had spend together, to their shared hours in the forest... the way Giacomo‘s shiny eyes had looked up at him, shiny with tears and the bliss of his orgasm, to whisper _“I love you, Friedrich.”_ But those blissful eyes blurred to change into the fear-filled ones, the warmth of those brown orbes replaced with pure fear and pain as they looked up at him, silently pleading him to stop. Friedrich felt like he was about to be sick, his stomach clenching at the intensity of those memories he knew he would most likely never be able to get out of his head.

He was send into a caughing fit, hunching as his chest clenched and refused any air to be drawn in. “You should sit up for a bit, Sire, it will help,” Wilhelm came to his aid, helping him to sit up and putting another pillow under his shoulders so he was positioned higher. The coughing did indeed ebb down and Friedrich declined being passed the glass, insisting to retrieving it himself. He moved painfully slow and if he spilled half of its content onto the blanket, his valet did not mention it.

Friedrich should have known that it was never meant to end well, he had not been made to have happiness in his life for an extended period of time. _“I execrated my father for years and years on end, oh I still do so to this day, but only to end up acting like he did.”_ Oh, he could have snorted at the sheer irony of the words he had spoken to Giacomo, acting like his father was exactly what he had done. No, it had been worse, much worse. His father had beaten him as a disciplinarian, despite how cruel his father had been he had still had been a father in a twisted meaning of the word - he had the right to do so, the right to punish his son as he had thought to be fitting. But he, Friedrich, had violated the person he loved, the person he had the least right to hurt out of all the people in the country he was running.

“Did he... leave a letter?” He felt stupid for asking, why would Giacomo spare the time to write him anything? He probably would never spare him another look. Friedrich swallowed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, trying not to look at his valet. “ I do not know, Sire, there was no letter passed on to me.” “I should have known,” he muttered to himself, wiping at his nose again and trying not the let the hurt be too audible in his voice. “How is my court doing?” “There, of course, are rumors, Sire, how else could it be.” Friedrich snorted humorlessly, “Any plans of overthrowing me yet?” “None of which I am aware of, Sire. But I fear that they are awaiting a statement about what happened. It has come to my ears that some are worrying about you... acting the same way again, Sire.”

Friedrich nodded slowly, pulling up his nose, “I have fully understanding of that and I shall prepare a speech.” “Once you are fully healed, Sire -” He shook his head, looking down at the palms of his hands and clenching them into fists before at his valet again, “I will never heal from his.”

Giacomo, too, had spend the days after the incident in bed, first declining, then refusing any attempt of either Achille or Philippe to make him get up.

So he had spend hours in the exact same position, on his stomach and with his arms folded under the pillow his cheek was resting on, simply staring out of the window and at always the same scenery. Everytime his thoughts only grazed the topic of Friedrich, Giacomo would burst into tears out of thin air. No, not because of the seemingly everlasting pain in his backside or the memory of the iron grip on his throat. It were the happy memories that were the most painful ones, the memory of Friedrich taking his hand when they had run away from the party, Friedrich‘s lips on his, Friedrich‘s arms coming around him from behind to embrace him as they had gazed at the stars, to pull him against his chest when they both layed in bed.

Giacomo had often found himself questioning the truth of every word Friedrich had ever spoken to him prior. _“Shut your mouth, whore.” “You tricked me.” “I did not allow you to speak, whore!”_ He always had to cringe when he heard Friedrich‘s voice speaking those words, they ecchoed in his head as if they had been trapped in there. Was that how Friedrich had thought of him, as nothing but a king‘s whore when he had spread his legs for Friedrich or had taken him into his mouth... Giacomo had shuddered, trying to stop his mind from going into that direction.

But oh, how he still longed to feel Friedrich‘s fingers in his hair and caressing him, despite the pain that they had caused him, despite the fear that they had made him feel - Giacomo genuinely missed Friedrich. He did. But he had started to wonder if the Friedrich he had learned to love had, maybe, never existed after all. Philippe had managed to convince him, on the second day, to get up and at least eat something. “You need to eat, _mon_ _ange_ , or your body will not be able to heal.” So Giaomo had allowed the French to heave him to his feet and remove the bandages from his backside while Achille spoon-fed him some broth. He knew he must look horrible, despite being in bed all day and night he barely ever slept, his thoughts too loud to allow him to fall asleep.

He had winced when a sticky bandage was pulled off, and Philippe had shushed him with a gentle tone while he had cleaned the last of the old salve off with a soaked cloth. “I have almost finished, _mignonette_ , and you can lie back down if you wish to once I am done. Do you require anything else?” Giacomo had declined with a teary smile and a shake of his head that had made his unkempt hair move, and Achille and Philippe had shared a look before the latter had spoken again, “Would you allow us to at least comb your hair? It would be a shame if you would have to cut it.” Giacomo had endured that, too, being steadied by Philippe holding his shoulders while Achille had skillfully worked out knot after know before putting in a braid, “ _Voilà_.” “Thank you,” was all Giacomo had answered with a low voice, thankful when he had been lying down once again.

He had known that he would have to leave Sanssouci as soon as he could, both since he could not stand to stay there and possibly seeing Friedrich every day, maybe even with another, and since he guessed that Friedrich probably did not want him to stay. A whore had no place at a king‘s court for longer than the king desired their use.

Achille and Philippe had left him alone for the majority of the day after Giacomo had exclaimed his wish for solitude, the frenchmen only returning late in the evening to each sleep on one of the canapés before leaving early in the morning. Giacomo had admired them, especially Philippe, he really had. Given the way he had treated the curly-haired French, he would not have been surprised if he would have casted him aside. But he had showed mercy on him, taking Giacomo in at possibly the lowest point in his life.

It had been on the third day that Philippe had proposed a possible early return to France. “I thought that... you have to stay for a couple of weeks still?” Philippe had merely rolled his eyes at Giacomo‘s question, “ _His Majesty_ should be greatful if I keep my mouth shut at the court of _mon roi_. Beating up his lover... the words have already made it to Austria, of that I am certain.” The frenchman had know that he, someday, would have to tell the truth to both Giacomo and himself, but he had not been able to do so then. Too great had the fear been of Giacomo pulling away, of him ending their friendship. For which Philippe could not have blamed him, but still.

“ _Alors_ _oui_ , _mignonette_ , if you wish to leave I will arrange our departure, too.” Giacomo had swallowed hard, looking over at Achille before he looked back at Philippe who offered him a gentle smile. “You... would do that?” Philippe had simply sat himself down on the mattress beside him and had run a soothing hand up and down his back, “ _Oui_ , a word and I will prepare everything.” Giacomo suddenly had not been so sure if he could leave since he knew that it would mean that he would, most likely, never see Friedrich again. They had not even discussed if he should simply return back home, back to Venice. He knew he never would be able to leave... all of this behind. And he had not been too opposed of another adventure, even if he would have wished for it to come later.

“Where will we be going?” Philippe‘s smile had only widened, “Saint-Cloud. The king granted me and my companions stay in one of his _châteaux_. It is beautiful there, _mignonette_ , I am sure that you will love it.” “I will not have to see the king right at our arrival, will I?” While Giacomo had known that the journey would take close to a week, the bruises on his face would take longer to heal completely. Philippe had only laughed and bend down to press a haste kiss onto his forehead, “ _Non_ , _mignonette_ , you will not.” “Then yes, I shall go with you.” Philippe really had kept his promise, sending a messenger to Paris and arranging a stagecoach on the same day, even managing to get their belongings packed together by a couple of menservants after promising to pay them each ten thalers if they kept silent about it. _(- > they would have earned about 30 to 40 thalers in a month)_.

So now Giacomo was laying in the same position that he had been for the past three days, clutching at the pillow as watched the fully and proudly-standing moon with tear-filled eyes. Achille, Philippe and him would be leaving tomorrow around midday, or so he had been told. When he had asked about Friedrich and about how he was doing, “Is he awake, is he aware?” Philippe had merely answered with a shake of his head and another question, “Did he ask about you, _mignonette_? Did he ask how you are doing?” Of course Friedrich had not done so, but Philippe‘s response had not really answered Giacomo‘s questions. So... was he awake and well but simply did not care about him? Or was he still unconscious and non-responsive? Friedrich had probably already casted him aside, of that he was aware, but it did not make it easier for Giacomo to stop caring about the one he loved.

He was staring at the moon as if he could gain answers from it, answers to questions that were nagging his mind sore and preventing him from sleeping. If he would manage to fall into a slumber, though, it was plagued by always the same nightmare - Giacomo was running as fast as he could, so fast his lungs were starting to hurt, but he was running on the same spot and the iron hand he was running away from would catch up on him every single time and slowly but steadily squeeze the life out of him. Giacomo would wake up, panting and sweat-stained with either Achille or Philippe, or sometimes both, bend over him with bold worry written on their faces. He was not okay, and Giacomo knew it. Should he leave a letter? It usually would have been out of question, a matter of course, but he was actually doubting that Friedrich would appreciate it. He would probably cast it aside or even burn it without a second glance or thought about it.

Still, Giacomo could not imagine to leave without letting Friedrich know how he felt one last time and he thought that, how stupid it may sound, maybe he could deal with it easier with him knowing. Achille and Philippe were out, he had not asked but he guessed that they had went in the salon. He was just glad that he was alone and able to enjoy the peacefullness of solitude, he knew that he could not possible enter a room knowing that he would pull everyone‘s attention and eyes onto him. They would be full curiosity and pity and Giacomo probably would be annoyed by countless questions... No thank you, he could do just great without that.

He rolled out a bed, a movement he had been getting familiar with in order to not put any pressure onto his backside, and trudged over to the desk to retrieve a piece of paper and something to write with. But once he had done so he found his mind unusually blank, he did not know what he could possibly write without it sounding too pathetic. Giacomo crumpled up the piece of paper despite having nothing written on in and sighed as he reached for another one. He managed to get a good half of the page covered before he put down the pen and wiped at his eyes rather roughly, blowing the ink dry and making sure to fold the paper extra carefully. It did not take him long to find his wax seal stamp, and he watched, deeply lost in thoughts, how the red wax slowly melted in the spoon.

Once Giacomo had sealed the letter and put it in one of the desk‘s drawers, out of the eyes out of the mind, he blew the candle out and crawled back into bed, finding sleep with tear-streaked cheeks long after Achille and Philippe had returned. “Philippe, did you pack everything? I will not return here because you forgot your ivory comb again.” “That happened years ago, _mon cousin_ , would you please let it go already,” Philippe snapped, him and Achille watched with crossed arms and frowns on their faces as the menservants passed in and out of the room to carry the many suitcases down to the stagecoach. “Would you please let it go already,” the Achille mocked, chuckling when Philippe threw a french snarl at him before walking over to the door that led to the adjoined bathroom.

He knocked once, “Giacomo?” A cough, “Eh - yes, I will be done in just a minute.” “It is alright, _mon ange_ , take all the time you need.”

Giacomo exhaled a shaky breath of relief when he could hear the heels of the French‘s shoes clatter away again as he talked to one of the menservant, splashing his face with cold water to, hopefully, be able to hide that he had been silently crying since he had closed the door behind him with the promise of getting himself ready. There still were no news on Friedrich, some muttered that he had caughed a sickness while others said that he had been poisoned. Giacomo did not know what it was, but he would have just liked to know that... Friedrich was okay before he would leave.

He steadied himself before he unlocked and opened the door to step out of the bathroom, trying to ignore the way the fabric of his britches rubbed against his sore skin as he walked. Philippe closed in on him, again, and kissed his forehead, “You look gorgeous, _mignonette_. I believe that we shall be able to leave very soon.” Giacomo blushed, both at the frenchman‘s words and at a thought that had popped up into his mind. “I... do not see how I will be able to sit... in the carriage for a week,” he mumbled, the tip of his ears burning from embarassment. “Do not worry, the seats are long enough for you to lie down comfortably. Trust me, I tried it,” Philippe chirped and grinned while Achille behind him groaned, “ _Je vous prie_ , _mon cousin_.” “What? I merely wanted to reassure him of a comfortable journey.”

Giacomo was clutching his diary to his chest as he took the step up into the spacious stagecoach, closely followed by Philippe who supported him mentally with a hand in the small of his back and Achille, who closed the door behind them rather forcefully and with a snarl. “Look at them, how eager they are to catch a glimps of you,” he looked out of the window with disgust clearly written on his face. “Is everything alright, _mignonette_?” Giacomo blinked hard at Philippe‘s question, mumbling a quick response of, “Yes, of course,” as he stretched himself on the seat opposite of the two frenchmen.

Philippe had provided him with a pillow to be as comfortable as one could be in a stagecoach, and Giacomo felt his filling up when the stagecoach jerked into movement, slowly making its way down the courtyard. The facade sparkled in just the same way it had done the first time he had seen in, the image burning itself into his mind. He had not been prepared to see it for the last time so soon and Giacomo knew very well that he would leave more than just a piece of his heart behind, here at Sanssouci.

 _My Giacomo_ , _mein Liebling_ , _my Sanssouci_.

 _Whore_.

He burried his face in the pillow and neither Achille nor Philippe commented on his tears.

“Are you ready, Sire?” Friedrich checked himself in the mirror - he looked anything but good, despite having been powdered strongly to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He was unsteady on his feet and nervously clutching the piece of paper he had written a few hurried words on in one hand while he fixed an unruly strand of hair with the other. Taking in a deep breath, he turned around to face his valet, “Yes, I am ready.”

The throne room was buzzing when Friedrich entered, not only filled with his guests of court but with ambassadors and other... interested parties that had hurried to Sanssouci when the word of the king‘s outburst had started to spread like a wildfire. “His Majesty, the king!” The different conversations quietened down and the crowd fell silent at the guard‘s announcement, and Friedrich tried to stop the tremble in his body when he walked over to sit down on his throne, planting his free hand flat onto the armrest. He looked through the room before he started to speak with a loud and mostly steady, emotionless voice, “I hereby would like to officially announce,” he cleared his throat, “that I was poisoned on the evening of the 28th of July in a treacherous attempt to hurt me and the people I am close with.” Friedrich paused, swallowed and looked around the room again, trying not to let the fact that it was missing his favorite person get to him.

“While I suffered... from the effects of the poison I hurt... a dear and very close friend of mine who has since decided to leave Sanssouci,” Friedrich cleared his throat, he felt like he was near tears and he wanted nothing more than to be in his own room, he could feel their eyes on him and he could hear them talking behind raised hands - about what he could only guess. “My people are... working on finding those who are to be held responsible... ” Friedrich stopped, unsure of how to continue and Wilhelm shot him a quick smile and a nod of reassurement. God, he was really standing beside himself, such unsureness usually unknown to him.

 _“Do not act as if you do not know what I am talking about.” “I do no-ot.”_ The whispers grew louder when he continued staring into the air in silence, only snapping out of it when he could hear the guard that stood beside him blow his nose. Thankfully his valet seemed to realize his struggles and stepped forward, “His Majesty is tired, he is still far from recovered but had been eager to enlighten you from any false information that has been going around. His Majesty will return to his chamber now.” Wilhelm helped Friedrich onto his feet, “Come, Sire.” “Thank you,” the king whispered, allowing himself to be guided back into privacy. It was where he belonged, he thought, in solitude where he could not hurt anyone else.

 _“Fr-iedrich, stop, ple-ase stop.”_ “Do you require something, Sire?” “No, thank you,” Friedrich answered and shrugged off his coat to carelessly throw it onto his bed, “you can leave now. “Of course, Sire.” He let out a shaky breath when his valet closed the door behind him and moved to sit in the rocking chair that had been positioned to stand in front of the opened window, the courtains having been pulled aside to allow the full of the summer‘s afternoon breeze inside. Friedrich sat down with a groan, trying not to think about how utterly lonely he was and how he could almost hear Giacomo‘s laugh again when he would be lolling on his bed after their act, his soft and slightly messed-up hair hanging openly past his shoulders and down over his chest, his cheeks touched by the faintest of blush. He knew it was more than stupid, but Friedrich still turned around to look back at his bed and his shoulders slumped when he found it to be empty.

A shudder went through him when he forced his eyes to stare back out of the window and at nothing in particular, and Friedrich did not know how long he lingered like this before a knock on the door disturbed him. “Who is it?” “It is me, Sire.” Wilhelm. “You may enter.” The door was opened and closed in quick succession. “What is it?” “A letter from Monsieur Casanova, Sire.” Friedrich‘s sharp intake of air was the only reaction that came. “Monsieur Casanova, he... must have forgotten it in the rooms the ambassador was staying in where a servant found it, Sire. It carries his seal.” “Leave it on the side table, please.” “Of course, Sire.” Friedrich was on his feet as soon as the valet was out of the door again and he walked across the room to pick up said letter, looking at it in disbelief. His Giacomo... he had left him something.

He sat back down and removed the seal with careful and slow fingers as if scared of destroying only an inch of the paper. Friedrich held it to his face before he opened it, and he would have liked to imagine that it carried the faintest of Giacomo‘s typical smell, his breath hitching when something slid out of the folded paper. He was sure that there were already tears in his eyes and he picked the small, dried flower up from where it has landed in a crease of his blouse. His Giacomo... he held it in the most gentle of grips, scared of breaking it. It was a pale pink Arbutus flower, the pressed petals thin enough to let the sunlight through them as Friedrich turned it to inspect it closely. He knew what it meant, of course he did - undying love and eternal devotion, and his heart clenched oh so painfully when he picked up the letter with his right hand while continuing to hold the flower with the other.

 _Friedrich, while I know that you will probably never read this letter, I have to write it in order to get it off my chest. I would not know how to live on if I would keep it within me. I love you, Friedrich. I love you despite how you treated and played me, despite the lies you told me. I love you. I love you. I love you. I would write it a thousand times more, I love you, if the ink would not be running out and if my hand would not be shaking so. I love you, I love you._ A line on the paper had been stroke through, _Remember that there will always be someone that loves you even if you do not love him back. That someone is me. I love you, Friedrich, and I will never stop doing do. I am sorry for any troubles that I have caused you and that it had to end this way. I love you. Yours always, Giacomo._

Friedrich had not realized that he had been crying before he had even finished reading the written words that were the only thing he had left of Giacomo, but it were not his tears that had caused some of the ink to smudge. _Remember that there will always be someone that loves you even if you do not love him back._ Giacomo loved him, he still loved him. Oh, how cruel life could be. Friedrich blinked hard as he put the flower back down onto the paper before he folded it and stood to put it into the drawer of his nightstand. He did not know how he could just... continue his life without the Italian at his side and with the enormous hole in his heart. He would have to, that he had no choice - he had a country to run. Friedrich‘s mind wandered off to what their parting might have been like if it all had went on as dreamy and rosy as their time, or most of their time, had been.

_“Promise that you will write,” Giacomo whispered, tilting his head into the gentle palm that was cupping one of his cheeks._

_A smile played around Friedrich‘s lips as he used his thumb to gently caress the soft skin. His eyes never broke away from Giacomo‘s, “I promise to do just that, and I do promise with all I possess. No, I shall write a letter for every hour we spend apart so you shall not be without me no matter the time of day.”_

_The younger tsked and his gaze grew shiny, “Friedrich -” The other‘s lips were on his before he could finish and he gasped and moaned when Friedrich‘s tongue began a gentle battle with his, eager to explore every inch of his mouth. Both men were panting heavily when they parted to lean their foreheads together, keeping their eyes close as if the moment would be over with a blink._

_“Mein Liebling,” Friedrich brushed back a stray strand of blond hair, “I shall keep my bed empty and ready while awaiting your return.” Giacomo bit down on the inside of his lip, the sharp pain dull against the hot jolt of jealousy that shot through his veins at the whispered words and the mental image of Friedrich enjoying closeness with another._

_He gave a teary chuckle, “I will believe you, of course.”_

_The sharp knock at the chamber‘s door signaled that the Italian‘s stagecoach was fully loaded and ready to start the travel to Venice._

_“Come here,” Friedrich murmured and drew the younger into a bone crushing embrace, cradling the back of his head when Giacomo burried his face in his chest, petting the soft blond hair and pressing a couple of kisses into it, “Be safe and come back to me, Liebling. I need you here with me.”_

_Another sharp knock disturbed then and Giacomo pulled away, wiping at the wetness on his face._

_“I apologize, I must be going -” “Would it change anything if I order you to stay?” “No, Friedrich, it would not. There are matters I have to attend in Venice, orders to give out to arrange a longer absence of mine. It needs to be done before I can return to you.”_

_Friedrich just pulled him in for another deep kiss._

No, he was not kissing Giacomo and neither was he embracing him. There was no promise of return, no big, doe-like eyes looking up at him, eyes that made Giacomo seem so much younger than his thirty-nine years of age. There were no soft touches, no arms wrapped around his neck. It was just him, Friedrich, standing alone in his rooms that were suddenly too big for him as he mourned over the love he had so foolishly lost.


End file.
